


Chemicals React

by BirdOfHermes



Category: Men in Black (Movies), Men in Black: International, Men in Black: The Series
Genre: Alphabet, Alphabet Meme, Alphabet Soup Challenge, Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Attraction, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Best Friends, Breaking Up & Making Up, Couch Sex, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Drunk Dialing, Drunkenness, F/M, Fakeout Makeout, Falling In Love, Ficlet Collection, First Love, Fix-It, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Forehead Kisses, Forehead Touching, French Kissing, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Humor, I Love You, Intimacy, Jealousy, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, Male-Female Friendship, Mutual Pining, Nicknames, Oral Sex, Overprotective, Pet Names, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Rough Sex, Seduction, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Spooning, Surprise Kissing, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved, Touching, Trauma, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes/pseuds/BirdOfHermes
Summary: Agent M tries to live her life as logically as possible, and Agent H is having absolutely none of it. Collection of ficlets that occur over the course of their friendship and partnership as MIB agents in London. Post MIBI. Fixed ending.





	1. Flirt

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [化学有反应](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19405186) by [Basilie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basilie/pseuds/Basilie)



> Fuck the ending to Men in Black: International. It didn't happen. So here's a bunch of stuff that I think would have happened with the ending in my head, which is M staying in London and H turning down the leadership position, and they become partners. This picks up maybe about 90 days into their partnership.
> 
> P.S. I am not a fan of Pawny, so he's probably not gonna show up, just fyi.

_Were you right?_  
_Was I wrong?_  
_Were you weak?_  
_Was I strong?_  
_Yeah, both of us broken_  
_Caught in a moment_  
_We lived and we loved_  
_And we hurt and we joked, yeah_  
_But the planets all aligned_  
_When you looked into my eyes_  
_And just like that_  
_The chemicals react_  
_The chemicals react…_  
_-“Chemicals React” by Ally and AJ_

 

Agent M opened her envelope, read the top line, and let out a groan. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Immediately, she heard wheels squeaking as her partner slid his chair over to her desk and peeked over her shoulder, his own broad one bumping it in the wake of his nosy behavior. "Oho! What's this? You got the old Honeypot assignment, eh?"

"Yes," she whined, laying her head back on the seat and resisting the urge to stamp her feet in a temper tantrum. "Why? Anything but that. I'd rather scrape beetles off of a Chickawumba's stomach for three days than fake-seduce some douchebag to plant a bug."

Agent H chuckled. "Oh, come on, we all have to do things we don't like at some point in this job."

"I know," she grumbled, stuffing the paper back into the folder and dropping it on her desk, glaring impudently.

H nudged her shoulder. "Aww, don't worry, we're gonna get you through this. We just have to teach you how to flirt."

M gave him an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

"What?" he asked.

"I know how to flirt."

"You absolutely don't. At all. I've seen you try. It's...frankly, it's sad and upsetting."

She bristled. "I know how to flirt, H. You are imagining things."

"Oh, am I?" he challenged. She yipped in surprise as he yanked her chair forward until their knees brushed together and gave her an intense stare.

"Well, go on then," H said. "Give it your best shot."

M blinked at him. "What?"

"Flirt with me. Right now."

She sputtered. "What do you mean right now?"

"See, that's your first problem," H said. "You've got to be ready at the drop of a hat with a good line if you're going to be the honeypot. You shouldn't have to think about it. You should just be able to go at any time."

"Oh, is that how it works for you, pretty boy?"

"Yes. Do you know how many honeypot missions I've been on?"

She crossed her arms, scowling. "No. How many?"

"Twenty-six," H said. "Do you know how many of them I've failed?"

"No."

He made a little "O" with his hand. "Zero."

M rolled her eyes. "Liar."

"Nope," he said, popping the P-sound. "I've cleared every last one. Check my file if you don't believe me. Now if you can successfully flirt with me right now, I'll leave you alone. Otherwise, rookie, you're getting a training lesson in seduction."

"This is sexual harassment," she insisted.

H rolled his eyes. "Quit deflecting already. You know I'm not going to drop it."

"Fine!" M tried to clear her head for a moment to think of something. She desperately wanted him off her back. He meant well, but Agent H could be utterly infuriating when he wanted to be, especially when he wanted to help.

She exhaled and loosened up her posture first, and then lightened her tone considerably. "Oh, that's a nice watch. What kind is it?"

"Hmm?" H asked facetiously, lifting his arm. "Oh, it's an Armani, thank you."

She reached out and flipped his hand over on the pretense of looking at the face of the watch, but really it just gave her an excuse to touch him. His skin was feverishly warm as she pushed up the sleeve to his dress shirt and adopted a curious expression. "I don't actually know much about watches. How did you end up picking this one?"

She stroked the inside of his forearm, batting her lashes slightly. Agent H didn't quite tense under her touch, but she could tell he was perhaps ticklish; he cleared his throat as her fingers roamed over the veins in his forearm. "Didn't think too much about it. Nice price range and they say these things can survive a nuclear holocaust."

"Mm. Do you know where I might be able to get one?"

He gave her an even stare, and then smirked. "I might."

She thought she had him, but of course, like MIB had taught her so far, expect the unexpected.

Agent H sat forward and caught her arm instead, flipping it up and running his long, strong fingers up the back of her wrist. She shuddered on impulse; she had sensitive skin. "Though I'm not sure if an Armani is the right watch for you, with such delicate wrists. They're very small and elegant, and the face might seem too large and heavy for you."

His thumb brushed her sleeve up some more, his calloused fingertips just barely grazing her skin, and her eyes nearly closed to the subtle, intimate touch. "I think perhaps you'd like a Michael Kors instead. What time do you get off tonight? I'd love to take you watch shopping."

M's cheeks burned as he continued staring at her from inches away, and gently caressing her forearm.

"Okay, fine," she seethed, snatching her arm free. "So you're a better flirt than I am. I was still doing well."

"You're not half bad," H admitted, sitting back in his chair. "But you tense up, and that's the problem. It's not that you can't give it; you can't take it in return without getting stiff."

She arched an eyebrow. He coughed. "Sorry, I just realized how that sounded. Anyway, my point remains. My place tonight after work. Flirting lessons. Bring beer."

He paused. "And wear something sexy. Ow! That was a joke, I swear!"

* * *

"I cannot believe I'm doing this," M grumbled as the biometric scanner flashed and then the elevator proceeded to take her up to his apartment. "One of the only nights I don't have to work a double and I'm letting lover boy teach me how to flirt. I must be losing it."

She stepped off and walked down the hall, knocking three times on the door. Agent H's cheerful voice called through it. "Who is it?"

"Me, you idiot," she called back. "Who else would it be?"

The door opened and H appeared, all smiles as usual, his tone chiding. "I would have you know many a lady has sought my company, Agent M. I had to be sure it was you."

M rolled her eyes and shoved the beer into his arms as she walked by. "More than I needed to know, thank you very much."

H shut the door and clucked his tongue. "Sore spot, huh? What's the matter? Jealous?"

"Ha!" she barked, tossing down her jacket on his couch and snatching a beer once he offered it. "I count my blessings that you don't have any interest in me. I can't imagine being lured into one of your honeytraps."

"Well," he said smugly. "No one's ever complained before."

"She would have to have a brain first," M snarked back with a glare.

"I find that highly offensive," he sniffed. "I do not date brainless women. I value conversation just as much as sex."

"Sure, you do." She took a deep swig and then sighed. "Let's get this over already. What wisdom do you have to bestow upon my lowly, unattractive person, oh great Agent H?"

"Oh, don't be so grumpy. Really, I meant what I said. There's nothing wrong with the way you flirt; it's if someone flirts back that is the problem. We just need to get you used to it."

He beckoned a finger. She stomped over to the island counter and plopped down on a stool. He pulled his over to sit across from her. She'd naturally ignored his "dress sexy" suggestion and wore a black tank top over jeans and boots. At home, H relaxed a lot more. He wore just a plain white shirt and black jeans. Despite their bickering, she did happen to like his place. It was just as warm and friendly as he was, and she could spend hours here easily as she'd come to find.

"We've already been through your argument about chemicals," H said. "And that's the point I am trying to make. You seem to fight your impulses in order to stay logical, and you can't do that in a honeypot mission. The key to seduction isn't logic. You're learning how to bypass someone's defenses when you're seducing a target. It's not so much about sex as it is intimacy."

She stared at him. "How is that not the same thing?"

"You can have sex without being intimate. You can be intimate without having sex."

M snorted. "Is that right?"

H cocked his head slightly and smiled at her. "You and I are intimate, but we are not having sex last time I checked."

M punched him in the ribs lightly and he chuckled. "See? Intimacy in a honeypot mission is like asking a question with your body instead of with words. Let me give you some examples."

He paused. "And please do not hit me again."

"I'll try to resist the urge," M said wryly. "But I make no promises."

"Well, for starters, you are a very beautiful woman."

M waited for a punchline, and when one didn't arrive, she fidgeted. H pointed at her. "See? That. That's the first thing that would tip someone off. You struggle with compliments. Relax. It shouldn't be an awkward thing to hear from me or from a stranger, assuming the latter does so politely. You have wonderful features and you should appreciate them and know that they are in fact desirable."

H lightly gripped her shoulders. "Next, your posture is all wrong. You move like someone who is trained, and that can also tip someone off immediately. You have to let yourself relax. You have to fit into your surroundings. You have to seem comfortable. That in itself can be an invitation."

"How so?" M asked.

"There are different ways of playing it, but with you, I'd say you go with the always popular Sharon Stone move. You have gorgeous legs. Cross and uncross them once and any man will be crawling towards you on all fours."

M tried not to laugh. "It can't be that easy, H."

"Men are the easiest things on the planet," he said severely. "Honestly, we're painfully simple, so let's give that a shot. Relax your posture and try it out."

"This is ridiculous."

"It is, but it's necessary. Go on."

M heaved a sigh and leaned her head back, forbidding herself to think about the absurdity of her situation. She rolled her shoulders, relaxing the tension out of them, shook out her curls a bit, and exhaled. She slowed her heartbeat and then placed her hands on either side of her seat, which made her chest more noticeable. Then she crossed and uncrossed her legs slowly. She ventured a peek up at H and he gave her a thumbs up.

"Much better," he said, and she admitted she felt a tiny bit proud. "Now let's talk touch points."

"Touch points?"

"Yes. Areas on the body that basically will have him in the palm of your hand."

He held up his hands as her mouth flew open to protest. "No, not those points. If you do this right, you will never have to come anywhere near anyone's...naughty bits. Your target is humanoid, which should make it a little easier if you know what you're doing."

"You act like I've never had a boyfriend before, H," she mused, crossing her arms. "I know where men like to be touched."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Do you, now?"

H spread his arms. "By all means, do tell."

M scowled. "Well, every man is different."

"That's quite true. But I would hope by now you know me well. Tell me my touch points, then."

His smirk widened, those blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Assuming you can."

M shook her head and drained her beer in one go. She definitely needed alcohol for what she was about to do. She stepped off her stool and stared up at him impassively. He didn't move, staring right back in challenge. Her heart rebelled against all logic and began pounding against her sternum, and she mentally chastised it. It was Agent H, for God's sake. He was her partner. He was a giant doofus.

A giant, _attractive_ doofus.

M decided to go for broke. After all, he'd been gleefully annoying her all evening. Time to get some revenge.

She slid both palms up his knees to the outside of his thighs. She was rewarded with a sharp inhale from him and a blush stained his cheeks momentarily.

M smirked. "Number one."

She picked up his right arm and trailed her fingertips down his forearm. "Number two."

M's heart did the Lambada as she flattened her palms against his washboard abs. "Number three."

It took a mighty amount of self-control not to venture under that shirt. She could protest all she wanted, but M knew damn well Agent H was a feast for the eyes, and she'd have loved to touch that chest of his if she got the chance, but she reeled in her control and instead raised her hands to the spot just over his collarbone. She touched it gently, and could hear her voice getting huskier. "Number four."

She slid one hand up his neck to a spot behind his ear, and felt him shiver. "And number five."

H cleared his throat, and his own voice had lowered a couple of octaves, and something in her belly tightened instinctively. "Right on all counts. I'll give you this much: you do pay attention, even if you lack experience."

“Good. Does that mean we’re done here?”

“Always in such a hurry, rookie,” he tutted. “No, we’re not. You still have to get comfortable with being touched, to a certain degree. You get flustered easily, I’ve noticed, when other agents flirt with you.”

“Because it’s unprofessional,” she insisted. “We all work together and there can’t be feelings involved.”

“We’re human, M,” he told her, exasperated. “Yes, we are agents, and yes, we are supposed to be detached to some degree, but we don’t have to be robots. Connections happen naturally. If they didn’t, then you and I wouldn’t be here, and we wouldn’t be partners, right? You would have gone back to New York and I’d have accepted the director position if we didn’t feel something for each other.”

M opened her mouth to deny it, but then chewed her lip as she realized he was right. She hated it when he was right, which wasn’t often, but enough that it made her grumpy. He’d managed to wriggle his way into her heart against all odds with his strange combination of charm and openness. H made her feel like she belonged, like she could handle anything because she knew he would back her up anytime. Her whole life she’d been the outcast, the tabby cat in a litter of greys, ridiculed and mocked and told she was crazy for what she’d seen. H didn’t see her that way. He valued her. And, truth be told, she valued him too.

_“Agent O?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I would like to request a transfer to the London branch.”_

_The head agent’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that right?”_

_“Yes,” M said crisply, clasping her hands behind her back. “I believe I am needed there and I would be of better service to the agency that way. I’ve evaluated myself and my skillset and I can list the needs of the London office—”_

_O held up a hand. “That won’t be necessary, Agent M. Sign here.”_

_She slid a paper across her desk. M blinked rapidly and scooped it up, reading it and seeing it had been dated for two weeks prior. “This is…how did you—”_

_“Oh, pish tosh,” the older woman scoffed. “I saw that puppy dog look Agent H gave you when you left. I knew full well you’d request a transfer.”_

_M frowned. “I’m—Agent O, I hope you don’t misunderstand—”_

_“You’re a sharp agent, M. You will be successful no matter where you go. Rest assured, I don’t doubt that. London is just your style.”_

_O offered her a pen. M took it and signed it. “Right, cheerio, Agent M.”_

_“Thank you for this opportunity, ma’am.”_

_O gave her a mysterious smile before sipping her tea. “Good luck. Don’t get into too much trouble…with him.”_

“It’s…different with you,” M muttered in the end, avoiding his gaze.

“I should hope so,” H said cheerfully. “I certainly don’t let anyone else drive me this crazy.”

Again, she hit him in the ribs. “That’s because no one else but me can even tolerate you.”

“What a coincidence! The same could be said for you. Now, if you’re done complaining, give me your hand.”

M begrudgingly complied. “Circling back to touch points, this is the easiest to start with for your target. He will want to take your hand while he explains what an enticing species he is and so on and so forth.”

H glanced down at her fingers. M fidgeted. “What?”

“Nothing, just didn’t realize how small and pretty they are,” he said offhandedly, not catching the blush on her cheeks that followed. “So usually it starts something like this.”

He traced his middle finger in a feather-light straight line over the back of her hand and then made slow, swirling patterns aimlessly. M diverted all her self-control into not fleeing the apartment. Her heart pounded almost comically loud in her ears now. She really hadn’t been touched much recently. The immediate, pleasant contact high suffused her body and made her want to lean into him, maybe climb into his lap for more. He was right; she was definitely unused to it even though she knew perfectly well how to flirt. She focused her attention on her breathing and heart rate until both returned to normal, and H smiled a bit as he noticed.

“Good,” he said. “Nice and even, that’s it.”

“Alright, Mr. Know-It-All,” M blurted out. “What are my touch points?”

H snorted. “Oh, I’m not going to fall for that one. You’re just going to hit me again.”

“So you don’t know then?” she sniffed. “That’s all you had to say.”

“Oh, the reverse psychology! It’s killing me!”

“Tsk, tsk,” she sighed. “And here I thought you were Casanova.”

H pursed his lips for a moment and then pointed at her. “Do not punch me again.”

M just batted her lashes. "You admittedly are a lot harder to read than most women, hell, even most agents. We can thank your logic lifestyle for that one, but we've been together long enough for me to have gotten some clues."

H lifted her right arm. M watched, betraying nothing on her face. H's thumb brushed against the inside of her elbow, and her toes curled inside her boots. "Number one."

She fought not to tense as he inched just a bit closer, and his warm hand brushed her knee, traveling down the pants until his fingers touched the bend of it. "Number two."

He glided his hand up her leg to the small of her back. "Number three."

He lifted his hand enough to graze the nape of her neck. "Number four."

Then it came around enough to cup her chin, and he stooped over her, merrily using his height to tower above her with a sly, satisfied look at her dilated pupils. "And, well, we both know what number five is, don't we?"

H's eyes drifted down to her lips. She appreciated that he had enough sense not to touch them, but her frazzled mind felt a little disappointment anyway.

"So," she murmured. "You're not as clueless as you look."

"Sticks and stones, Agent M," he said, drawing away. "I think we should give it a test run to make sure my teachings have sunk in."

She groaned. "Really?"

"Yes, really," he said firmly. "I know you are no longer a probationary agent, but you need to impress the higher ups within your first 90 days if you want your career to advance quickly."

H waltzed over to the couch, and she didn't resist the urge to enjoy the view for once--after all, he could wear the hell out of some Levi's for a Brit--and plopped down. Then he patted the space next to him. "Care to join me?"

"I hate you."

H just grinned wider. M covered her face for a moment, lamenting her career and choice of partners, before steeling herself. The faster she got this over with, the faster she could go home and get some sleep in preparation for her mission. Well, if she wanted to get him out of her hair, she'd have to go all in. Full Jessica Rabbit sort of stuff. She shut her eyes for a second and channeled her inner seductress before pushing to her feet.

The first thing she changed was her walk.

H had been right, for once; she did have a very brisk walk. Her feet landed hard and purposely, and all the training to be an effective agent meant her posture was extremely stiff and straight, her chin parallel to the ground. For her new walk, she added a slight twisting motion to her hips that caused them to roll from side to side, and allowed more of a bounce to each step, which drew attention to her many curves. She sauntered over to the couch beside him at a languid pace and lounged in the seat as if it had been made just for her. She reclined most of the way and performed the iconic Sharon Stone leg cross as he'd suggested, and fixed a coy smile on her lips, her thick lashes lowered over her eyes.

"Excuse me, but do you happen to have the time?"

H glanced at his watch. "Half past ten."

M sighed. "My contact's late. I hate that. It's so hard to find good help these days. Looks like I'm stuck here until he shows. Guess I'll have to amuse myself."

She smirked. "Unless you'd like to do that for me."

"Oh, I don't know, miss," H replied. "What do you consider amusing?"

She pretended to think about it. "Can't resist a good knock-knock joke."

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Robin."

"Robin who?"

H pretended to pull a gun from his pocket. "Robin you, now hand over the cash."

M was surprised that her laugh was genuine. "That's awful."

"You still laughed, so technically that's a win on my part."

She leaned her head on one hand, which consequently brought them within inches of each other. "Mm. And what is it that you think you won?"

"Something good, I hope," he murmured back.

She skated one hand up his knee. "Ooh, I'm fresh out of that. What about something bad instead?"

H chuckled, and she could almost taste his breath from so close. "I happen to like that better, actually."

M's head tilted slightly to accommodate him. And then she blinked and realized just exactly what she'd been about to do. H seemed to realize it at the exact same time, and cleared his throat as he leaned away from her, his voice a little hoarse. "That, uh, that was pretty much perfect."

"T-Thanks," she said, scooting away from him to a safe distance. "I, uh, I think I've got it from here. So I'm just gonna...y'know...skidaddle."

M swept up her jacket and donned it hurriedly. "I'll, uh, see you first thing."

"Right," H said, standing and avoiding her gaze. "In the morning, then. Night, Molls."

"Night, Henry." M fled the apartment as fast as her boots could carry her, and before she could at all question the word "almost" in her head.


	2. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent M gets a late night call that she can't ignore. Takes place six months after the ending of MIBI.

M's phone was ringing at an ungodly hour, and she wanted to kill whoever was on the other side.

Growling, she reached one hand out and snatched up her phone, refusing to sit up in bed as she answered it. "What?"

"Sorry to wake you, M," Agent C said, sounding every bit as tired as she was. "But I just got a very disturbing call."

"Get on with it."

"It was from Agent H."

"So?"

"M, he _drunk-dialed_ me."

She sat up then. "Wait, what?"

"Exactly. From the sound of it, he's entirely schnockered. Told me he's at that Verinthian bar on Worthington Avenue and he wanted me to drink with him. I figured something was wrong and you might want to check on him."

M palmed her face. "What am I? His keeper?"

C chuckled. "I think you know by now that's exactly what you are, M. Good luck." The little shit hung up the phone. M groaned and collapsed onto her pillow again. She lay there, arms crossed, glaring at the ceiling. Just how guilty would she feel if she left H there to his own devices? He obviously wasn't too drunk to use his phone. He could get home in one piece.

Then she frowned. It was very unlike him to party quite this hard on a weekday, though, and he had to report in at six o'clock same as she did. Her gut twisted. She knew him. Something may have been wrong, but what?

She flicked through her phone's calendar and checked the date. She paled. Then she threw the covers off and got dressed in a hurry.

M found Agent H in the VIP section of the Verinthian bar, because with that smile and that face, of course he was. The entire world, alien or not, was H's oyster being a handsome, charming British fellow, after all. The bar was still serving alcohol, since they weren't even on earth's timezone, so she had to turn down quite a few lustful advances before she walked up to his booth. H was sprawled out, the first couple shirt buttons undone, pounding down a strange blue bottle like it was orange juice straight out of the carton. She did have to give it to him; the man could hold his liquor. She'd seen him beat quite a few agents at drinking games and shots contests.

She stood there, arms crossed, and calmly raised her voice over the music enough to address him. "H."

The blond agent lowered the bottle and glanced up finally, and then the usual big, goofy smile stretched his lips. "M! Oh my gosh, where've you been? I missed you!"

For a second, she stared at him. Just how drunk was he? He'd never said that to her before. She shook off the momentary shock and glared. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"No, there's no clocks in here," he said, placing the now-empty bottle on the table in front of him. "It's kind of like a casino. They want you to just drink and dance and such. Here, come, sit with me. You've got to try this drink. It's from the Andromeda galaxy and it's soooooo good--"

"H," M said with strained patience. "Get your stupid ass up. I'm taking you home."

"Oh, come on!" he protested, pushing to his feet, and consequently stumbling so much she reached out to steady him. "It's not even close to closing time and they said all my drinks are covered until morning."

"You'll be dead of alcohol poisoning by morning," she said. "Get your jacket. We're leaving."

"M," H begged, hands clasped. "Please, just one more drink. Pretty please. You're so pretty. You're the prettiest pretty in the whole world."

M's lips threatened to smile and she willed herself not to do it at the utterly adorable pout on his face. H could charm the stars out of the sky. "Jacket. Now."

His shoulders slumped, his bottom lip pushing out as he wobbled to the seat and scooped up his jacket. He stumbled after her, bumping into things, still cheerily greeting and laughing with the bar patrons on their way out until they got to the car. She didn't trust him not to knock himself unconscious on the hood, so she opened the door for him and folded him into the passenger's side. It took all of about six seconds before he was passed out cold and snoring next to her as she drove him home. Again, her lips tried to smile and she ordered them not to.

She woke him once they reached his apartment, and he followed after her, humming in his blissful drunken state. She fished his keys out of his pocket, and his giggle when her hand brushed his thigh was ten kinds of adorable, and it just made her angrier. She knew her way around his place by now and ordered him to sit for a second while she poured him a glass of water.

"Drink," M said coldly.

"I'm not even that drunk," H insisted, but he did lift the glass to his lips. He spilled a good third of the water onto his shirt, but got it down anyway. "Besides, this one time in the academy--"

"I will strangle you if you tell me another drunken academy training story." She plucked the empty glass from his hand and took his arm, fingers on his pulse. She counted out the beats per minute and concluded he didn't have alcohol poisoning, then dragged him towards the bedroom.

M gave him a shove so he sat on the messy bed and set about undoing the buttons to his cuffs.

"You're so cute, you know," H slurred cheerfully. "Cute as a button. Like a ickle teddy bear."

M shook her head. "Do you have an off switch somewhere?"

"Nope!"

She reached up for the buttons of his dress shirt, and ignored his steady gaze on her face. He was so damned tall and he loomed over her, so she had to stand between his legs to even reach. To his credit, he rarely commented on her small stature. In fact, he always shortened his stride to keep from outpacing her, and would defend her in a heartbeat if anyone made a short joke.

"How'd you know where I was?" H asked.

"You drunk-dialed C, remember?"

He frowned. "I did? Mm. Weird."

M took a deep breath as she undid the last button and quietly asked, "Should we talk about this?"

"About what?"

"What day it is."

He squinted as he tried to think. "Wednesday?"

"Henry," M said as softly as she could. "It's been six months since...you know..."

She ran a hand through her hair. "Since we lost High T."

"Has it?" H said, not meeting her gaze as he pulled off his shirt. "Hmm, I hadn't noticed."

"Look at me."

He drummed his fingers on his knees nervously, pretending not to hear her as he kicked off his shoes. M gripped his chin and made him look down at her. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he whispered, his tone a little hoarse, his eyes a little shiny.

Her heart broke in that instant. There was something so...little boy about how he looked right now. She was the last person to know much about family. She'd given hers up, too ambitious to see the value in it, wanting nothing but to know the truth of the universe. Family was just another thread to trip her up. And yet...the sorrow in those blue eyes told her something different entirely.

"It's okay," M said, resting one hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay, you hear me?"

"I'm fine," H mumbled. "I'm fine, I swear, I'm fine, Molly, y-you don't have to..."

A long, shuddering breath escaped him and he sagged against her all of the sudden. He wrapped his arms around her waist and clung to her, hiding his face in her neck. She didn't resist him, awkward as it was, just let him find shelter in her embrace. She ran her hand through his hair and just hugged him back, her throat tight as she felt hot tears on her collarbone. He never made a sound the whole time, but she knew that he had just been holding it together all along, not wanting her or anyone to worry about him, and yet he was still raw from it all. She'd hated the Hive more than any organism in the known universe for doing this to him. For robbing him of someone he cared about and lying to him for years, for making him believe the lie.

Sometime later, his sinuous arms unfurled from around her and he drew back, wiping his face. "I'm sorry, Molls. I-I didn't mean to...sorry you had to come and get me. I know you're tired."

"I'll survive somehow," she said with an exaggerated sigh, and it made him smile. He cupped her face in his hands and leaned his forehead down to hers.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome, you big lug." She nodded towards the bed. "Get some sleep."

"Will you stay?"

She blinked at him. "Huh?"

He looked a little scared and surprised at himself and fragile. "Just...tonight. You know. Stay with me."

"Oh," she said softly, her heart ramming against her rib cage. "Um, yeah, that's fine, I can stay."

Relief washed over his expression then. "Thank you."

H pulled back the covers as she kicked off her boots and jacket, nervous as hell. She hadn't slept in bed with a man in ages. It had just been her for so long, maybe with an occasional stuffed animal on those cold, lonely nights. She walked around to the other side and climbed in next to him before flipping off the lamp. To her relief, he didn't sleep on a super hard or super soft mattress. It was right about where she liked it in firmness, and the sheets smelled of him and cologne and lavender. It was awkward at first, but as time slipped by, she relaxed and nodded off.

A while later, she woke as she heard H mumbling in his sleep, and pried her eyes open to see him on his side, his shoulders tense, his body curled inward on itself. Small pained noises escaped him, and before she even knew what the hell she was doing, she'd scooted up behind him and touched his shoulder lightly. He melted into the bed a moment later and his stilted breathing relaxed. She bit her bottom lip and pondered just how many fraternization policies she'd broken by now, but to hell with it. She pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades and wrapped her arm around his waist, curling against his warm, large form. Somehow in his sleep, his hand found hers and gripped it, and it did strange things to her heart as she fell asleep again.

She was woken unceremoniously by H's snoring that morning.

"Ugh," M whined, shoving her head under the pillow. "Stupid bastard. Why did I save you?"

Eventually, she withdrew her head enough to check the time. They had a scarce couple of hours to get ready for work, and she regretted having a conscience. Scowling, she poked the slumbering man in the shoulder blade.

"Get up, you idiot, we have to get going."

H groaned and rolled over, coiling his arms around her and burying his face in her neck with a sigh. She realized with a start that he was still completely asleep somehow, and just sighed even harder. "Wake up, H, you're wrinkling my shirt."

He grumbled something unintelligible into her hair. It sounded like, "don't wanna get up."

"Too bad, so sad, now leggo." She squirmed in an attempt to free herself, but he had a python grip. She decided to go for broke and grabbed his ear finally.

"Ow!" His head popped up and he let go, rubbing at the sore appendage and finally opening his eyes. He stared at her, wordlessly, for a few seconds. "Am I having that dream again or did something happen last night?"

M grabbed her pillow and gave him a good smack with it. "You are the biggest moron in the galaxy, you know that?"

"What?" he protested. "I don't remember anything. What happened last night?"

"You got drunk and dialed Agent C and I had to come and get you, that's what," she snarled, scooting off the bed and snatching up her boots and jacket. "Now shower and get dressed before we're both late for work."

"Wait, wait, wait, you're leaving out the part where we were in bed together," H said as he trailed after her. "Get to that part."

"It doesn't matter," M growled.

"It absolutely matters. Why were you in my bed?"

She marched to the door, but he intercepted her. "Molly--"

"I will atomize you, I swear to God."

He squinted at her livid expression. "You were taking care of me, weren't you?"

"I was making sure you didn't drown in your own vomit during the night."

His blue eyes sparkled then. "M...do you actually care about me?"

Her cheeks burned. "Move away from the door or I will knee you in the groin."

"You do!" he said triumphantly. "You actually care about me."

She kicked him in the shin and he hopped away from the door finally, rubbing the injured spot. "I hope you trip and fall in the shower and crack your head open, you annoying, self-centered, inconsiderate--"

He caught her wrist so she couldn't quite get out the door, and then she felt his lips on the top of her head in a warm, affectionate kiss. It stunned her so bad she couldn't finish her insults, so then she was able to hear him say, "Thanks, Molls."

He shut the door to his apartment. M resumed her furious walk back to the car, and it wasn't until she reached her apartment that she had stopped blushing.


	3. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just a simple misunderstanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, but worth it, trust me.

Agent H whistled as he got off the elevator, a tin of fresh baked goods tucked underneath one arm, and strode through the hallway towards Agent M's apartment. He was a bit early for Sunday breakfast, but he figured she'd be up anyway; she usually was at this time of morning.

Just as he lifted his hand to knock, the door opened.

"Morning, sunshine!" H said cheerily.

To the face of a twenty-something black guy he had never seen before.

H blinked. "Ah, what?"

He glanced at the door number again just to be safe, but he knew it was her apartment--he'd been here a thousand times by now, and all her stuff was still inside. He peeked in and saw no sign of her, and directed his attention back to the man before him. He was a couple inches shorter than him--but then again, who wasn't--with glasses and a white dress shirt, black tie, black slacks, and a briefcase.

Something very, very protective, and very, very angry, rose up inside Agent H's chest.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Uh, Agent B," the guy said, offering his hand. "Who are you?"

Agent H's brain put two and two together, and he did not take B's hand. "Who am I? Gee, that's a good question. I'm only the guy who helped Agent M save the world. I'm only the guy that spends every day with her and works cases together and takes her to dinner and teaches her how to fight. I'm only the guy that knows almost every single thing about her and her hopes and aspirations, so it's perfectly fine for us to be meeting like this, no big deal, absolutely fine."

"Uh--"

"It's fine," H said, laughing. "Totally, totally fine! But you know, before we go any further, I just need to make one single thing clear to you, because it's important to me that there is no misunderstanding between us as men."

H cleared his throat and adopted a pointy smile. "If for any reason at all you harm one single hair on her beautiful head, if you ever upset her, I will do things to you that will spit in the face of God and defy the laws of physics."

Agent B swallowed hard. "Uh--"

"If you hurt her, I have this very rare, very expensive, very illegal gun that I like to use. Her name is Cherry. Do you know what that gun will do to you, Agent B?"

"Um, no, but--"

"Cherry will melt you from the inside, atom by atom, as slowly as possible, until you are nothing more than a pile of runny goo on the floor," H said, gesturing between them on the welcome mat. "And then do you know what I'm going to do with your remains?"

"N-No?"

"I'm going to mop you up into a bucket and then I will set your remains on fire, and watch you burn down into ashes. Know what I'm going to do after that?"

"...no?"

"I'm going to flush those ashes down the filthiest toilet in the worst bar in London." Agent H beamed and spread his hands. "And that will be the end of you! Your remains will be in the sewers for all eternity, being shit on by rats and floating around in the worst-smelling scum in the whole city. And that, my friend, is what I will do to you if you do not treat this woman with every shred of respect and affection that exists in your body. Do you understand me?"

Agent B gulped. "Um, yes, but--"

"But what?" H demanded impatiently.

"I, uh, I'm just the at-home I.T. guy."

H stared at him. "...come again?"

Agent B gestured inside. "She, uh, she asked me to come fix her laptop since she has an early review session for her case, so I came over to fix it before the meeting."

"...oh. Well, have a good day, then, chap." H gave him a fond pat on the shoulder and walked inside. He continued whistling as he set the breakfast on the counter and filled up the teapot with water. A moment later, M appeared with a small bag of groceries, frowning as she spotted him in her kitchen.

"There she is!" H said, grinning. "How are you, muffin?"

"Hi," she said warily. "Did Agent B let you in?"

"Yes, he did. Nice chap, by the way."

"Right," M said, glancing between him and the door. "You didn't...say anything to him, did you?"

"What on earth would I have to say to your I.T. guy?"

"Nothing, it's just..." She shook her head and began taking the fruit out of the bag. "Weird. I saw him on my way in. He looked like he'd seen a ghost or something."

H just smiled down at her and winked. "Must be your imagination."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, yes, I cackled the entire time I wrote this.


	4. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Agent M's one-year anniversary as an agent, and Agent H knows just how to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M FINNA GIVE YOU ALL DIABEETUS WATCH ME.

"Congratulations on one year of service as an MIB agent, M."

It had been such an odd thing to hear after she'd walked into the office that morning, unready for the knowledge that she'd been here that long. It had all been so surreal, these cases, saving the world, finding a scrap of the world to call her own while she tried to figure out the truth of the universe.

And...almost a full year with her partner.

She had hardly been at her desk long, staring at the little neat MIB medal they'd given her as a keepsake, before two big hands clasped her shoulders from behind and squeezed affectionately. "There she is!"

M fought a smile off her face as she tilted her head back to look at Agent H's grin. "Congratulations on one year in London, M."

"Thanks, H."

"Great, so, I made us some plans for tonight."

"Oh God, _no_ ," she groaned, dropping her face into her hands. "No, no, no, you are not making me go out tonight."

"We are absolutely going out tonight," he insisted. "We are going to paint the town red. I've got VIP everything. All of it's set up and you have no say in the matter whatsoever."

"H," she begged, giving him a pleading look. "The last time you took me out, I woke up on a rooftop in Sudan with no passport and a treasure chest full of gold doubloons!"

"I know," he said fondly. "That was such a good night. This one will be even better."

"I'm not a party animal like you are," she complained. "Just let me go home and take a bath and sleep."

"You do that every night," he said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I promise this time we won't have any of that flerg to drink. That's what started the whole mess with the Sudanese and the treasure chest anyway."

"But--"

"Plus, you can't be mad at me," he said, grinning and reaching into his jacket. "Because I got you a present."

He held out his hand. Despite herself, M leaned over to see a silver disk about the size of her own palm with a glass center. Her mouth fell open. "Is that...what I think it is?"

"It better be," H said with a snort. "It cost a fortune and it took me six months to find the bloody thing."

She carefully picked it up and flipped it in her hands. "This is it. The collapsible, portable telescope I wanted. Do you know what this means? I can set it up anywhere and look as far as seventeen galaxies away from the earth. How the hell did you get it?"

"Oh, I know a few people," H said smugly.

M rolled her eyes. "Well, anyway, thank you. It's perfect."

She then scowled at him. "And it's the perfect way to guilt me into going out with you tonight, you bastard."

He grinned ear to ear and winked at her. "Yep!"

As predicted, Agent H had gone entirely over the top with her one-year celebration. He rented a limousine for them that drove them to a high profile club where he of course knew the owner, so every single drink was on the house. To his credit, H didn't try to drag everyone in the London office with them; he knew she was an introvert at heart, and she could only really be herself either alone or with him. That was how she ended up in a VIP booth clutching a bottle of alien beer and watching the dance floor with a sullen, jealous look.

H nudged her shoulder. "Come on, your face is going to get stuck like that."

"So?" she grumbled as she polished off her fourth bottle.

"Oh, what is the matter now, sourpuss?" H asked, handing the bottle off to the waitress and handing her a new one.

"How do they do that?" she lamented, gesturing to the bright pink alien girls twirling perfectly in time to the music. "I've never figured that out, you know."

"What?" H asked incredulously. "Dancing?"

She nodded with a glum look. "I have two left feet. I look like Frankenstein's monster when I try to dance."

H laughed. "It can't be that bad."

"It's awful," she insisted, flopping down against his side. "A total disgrace. I couldn't even do the Electric Slide, and that had instructions, for God's sake."

"You do know what your problem is, right?" he asked.

"No rhythm."

"No," he said. "You approach everything from a logical and scientific standpoint, and dancing has nothing to do with either thing."

"It's movement," M insisted. "Balance and gravity and physics."

"It is not," he said, exasperated. "Dancing is about freedom and passion and self-expression. Of course you can't dance thinking like that."

He set his beer down and scooped hers out of her hand, pushing to his feet. He held out his hand. "Come on, up and at 'em, muffin."

"First of all, you promised not to call me that in public," M said with a glare. "Second of all, no way. I just told you I can't dance."

"You can dance," H said. "You just need the right partner."

She scowled up at him, her defiance swelling, and yet his words pricked something in her heart a bit. Partner. Well, he was her partner. And she was insanely jealous of how those alien girls looked so fun and pretty out there as they danced.

"Just one dance," she said severely as she took his hand. He tugged her to her feet and closed his warm, strong fingers around her hand before leading her to the dance floor.

"As the lady wishes."

The club was an intergalactic one, showcasing human and alien music alike, from every genre and every time period. As luck would have it, the DJ hit them with an oldie that made her want to scurry right back to her safe little booth as she remembered exactly what movie the song had been famously known from.

_Dirty Dancing._

_"Do you love me?_   
_Do you love me?_   
_Do you love me_   
_Now that I can dance?_   
_Watch me now, hey!_   
_Work, work, oh_   
_Work it out, baby!"_

"I'm gonna sit this one out!" M squeaked, trying to flee, but H just laughed and grabbed her around the waist.

"Oh, no, you don't," he chided, and he turned her around. "Just follow my lead."

H started to do the Twist, honest to God, and as much as she wanted to be embarrassed, it made her bowl over laughing to see this six-foot-three-inch suit-wearing, alien-hunting, bar-brawling agent start to do a dance move from the sixties in front of her. He grinned madly as he watched her laugh and caught her arms, encouraging her to join him. She couldn't stop giggling in spite of herself and tried to mirror his movements, savoring every ridiculous moment of watching him dance like that with her.

_"I can mash potato_   
_Do the twist_   
_Well, now, tell me, baby_   
_Do you like it like this?_   
_Tell me!_   
_Whoa, do you love me?_   
_Do you love me?_   
_Do you love me_   
_Now that I can dance?_   
_Watch me now, hey!_   
_Work, work, aw_   
_Shake it up, shake it_   
_Shake it, shake it down!"_

  
H dragged her in closer until she had her arms around him and twisted and shimmied, that goofy grin still firmly in place, and she could hardly hear the music over how hard she was laughing. He spun the two of them on the floor, twirling her, bringing her back in and dipping with her. For a time, M completely forgot about everything else around her and let herself have fun with the one person who somehow knew how to bring that quality out in her.

Her partner.

The song faded out, soon to be replaced with another one, and H straightened them both up on the dance floor, cheeks flushed, hair mussed, his arms around her, the grin softened into a fond smile.

"See?" he said. "Just needed the right partner."

It was nearly the wee hours by the time they headed back to her apartment. H couldn't help himself, of course, wanting to walk her up. He did it all the time out of protective habit, since there were nasty aliens out there and she had made a name for herself as an effective, deadly agent. She'd learned long ago to just accept it.

"So," H said, feigning innocence as he cast a sidelong glance at her. "Did you have fun?"

"Maybe," M sniffed. "But I still would have preferred the long bath."

H sighed. "Never satisfied, are you?"

"Never," she replied snootily as the elevator doors parted and they walked towards her door. She bit her lip, and then added quietly. "But it wasn't the worst night I've ever had."

"That's the best I'm ever going to get out of you, isn't it?" he mused.

"Probably." She fiddled with her keys as she reached the door to her apartment, and suddenly felt rather awkward and vulnerable. She cleared her throat and made herself look up at him, which was a mistake, because he was all disheveled and gorgeous and she'd already had too many beers.

"Thanks, Henry," she said softly. "For...everything. Since we met."

He smiled down at her. "You know, I didn't believe in partners until I met you. I wouldn't presume to call you my better half, but if there were something equivalent, I think you're it for me, Molly. Really, congratulations. You're one hell of an agent."

She felt a rush of things at his words: gratitude, flattery, affection, fear, reticence, elation. She didn't know how to react. She'd never had someone like this, a best friend, someone who cared and looked after her, someone who knew her on a real level, someone who appreciated her. She didn't think it would ever happen to her. Didn't think she needed it. And yet.

"You're not so bad yourself," M said in return, not sure of what else to say to such sweet words.

"I know," he said smugly, and she rolled her eyes like always.

Then he surprised her by leaning down to her height and gently kissing her forehead, his voice quiet but warm in her ears. "Night, M."

She was almost breathless as he pulled away. "Night, H."

He headed back towards the elevator, still humming the tune they'd danced to, and she went to bed with a smile that night.


	5. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just a kiss.

"Range to target?"

"Hmm, looks like we need to take a left up here and then another right."

M arched an eyebrow high enough over her fancy sunglasses so that her partner could see it. "Remind me again why I should trust your directions? Were we or were we not lost in the canals for half an hour?"

"At least the view was nice," he offered, one hand on the small of her back as he guided her out of the way of a nearby cyclist.

"Yeah, that makes up for all that wasted time." She snatched the small locator disguised as a compass out of his hand and studied it. "And it's two lefts, by the way."

"That way will put us right in his line of vision," H said. "We need to stay inconspicuous or he'll take the creature and bail. Neither of us can catch a cephalopoid on foot, not in this terrain, so we have to keep under the radar."

"That's what the civvie clothes are for," she reminded him, brandishing the hem of her sundress. "I don't see how he could suspect anything with us looking like daft newlyweds."

She fiddled with the fake engagement ring for the hundredth time since they'd arrived to Venice. She just wasn't a ring person to begin with, and the stone was a two-carat that felt like it weighed an entire pound. She'd really wanted a plain wedding band like H, but no such luck from the equipment department.

"I don't think you look daft," H said as they reached the corner and paused to examine the street for their perpetrator. "I think you look rather nice in a dress."

"Take a picture," she grumbled. "As soon as we pop this guy, it's getting thrown out."

H chuckled. "Once a suit, always a suit."

M pointed towards the watchmaker's shop. "There he is. He's heading for the pet shop. Signal's strong, so we know he has it on him somewhere. What do you think is our best bet?"

H checked his watch. "The trade is supposed to happen pretty soon, so I think we should go for a sleight of hand. Play up the silly newlywed ruse, bump into him, nick the creature and go."

M zoomed in on the alien with her glasses. "Looks like it's in the front pocket of his jacket. Think you can manage it without making him suspicious?"

"My dear, I am the epitome of secretive and discreet," H insisted. "I'm like a shadow. He will see and feel nothing."

M shook her head. "There really are days I regret knowing you."

"Lies," he sniffed. "You adore me. Why else would you fake-marry me? Let's go, darling."

He offered his arm. M heaved a sigh and looped her arm through it as they went around the corner and then uphill. They crossed the street onto the perpetrator's side and slapped on wide, lovestruck smiles, laughing and talking about sight-seeing as they closed in on the target. The alien paced back and forth, agitated, waiting for his company to arrive.

It happened quickly. The pair pretended to bump into him, knocking him down, and then apologized profusely. As H helped him up, he covertly switched out the marble-sized orb in the man's jacket with a false one. The two linked arms again and continued down the sidewalk, still chatting easily until they had enough room to duck into an alley.

"See?" H said, withdrawing the housing unit for the tiny creature. "Easy as pie."

An alien roar shook the concrete below their feet.

"Uh-oh," H gulped. "I thought it would take him a little longer to notice."

They both hurried through the alley into the marketplace as they could hear pounding footsteps nearby. However, it was midday and the streets were crowded, and they couldn't break into a sprint or they'd tip him off to where they'd gone by running into people. H had taken the lead, hunting for a hiding spot, until a thought occurred to him.

"Um, M?" he asked as he stopped out of breath in front of a chocolate shop. "How much do you trust me?"

M stared in the direction they'd been running in, wincing as she heard another enraged cry of the pursuing creature. "A fair amount. Why?"

"Good to know. Hope this works."

"Hope what works?"

He didn't answer. He caught her wrist and tugged her into the entrance way of the chocolate shop. It had a decent amount of shade from the sun, draping their upper bodies in shadow, and he gently nudged her back against the glass. He pulled off his shades, and hers, cupping her face in his hands.

Before she could ask what he was doing, H leaned down and kissed her.

And for a second, the whole world stopped.

M hadn't kissed anyone in a while, and no one had kissed her for even longer. Her conversation with H about chemicals and impulses in the body had been true. She led her life with as little impulsive behavior as possible, and that meant no relationships. She'd had a few as an unsure teen, riddled with hormones, but over time, she'd learned to control them. She'd learned how to suppress her basic instincts and urges so she could operate safely as a logical, intelligent, dynamic, determined young woman.

H's kiss undid years of careful, practiced behavior and returned her to what she and every other human on the planet technically was deep down.

An animal.

Hot, soft lips sought after hers. An explosion of shivers raced down her back and over her calves and down to her toes. Euphoria shortly followed. Her limbs went liquid for a few seconds as blinding pleasure returned to her starved nerves and neglected sexual desire. She wanted to go limp from just how good it felt to be kissed this way, passionately, with no expectations. Just his mouth on hers, his hands on her face, his tall body pressed to the front of hers.

At least...it started out that way.

M parted her lips, dug her fingers into his shirt, and kissed him right back.

It had been years, but somehow, she remembered how to kiss as if her last one had only been hours ago. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and slid her tongue along until it met with his, and she tasted him. She tasted mint chewing gum and sweetness and savory flavors that were just him and nothing else. He kissed her back with equal fervor, slipping his hands from her cheeks to around her back, holding her up against him. Lust pooled between her thighs in searing heat as his tongue made lazy circles around hers, teasing, inviting her to sample more of him, and she tightened her grip on his shirt, pulling him forward to lean that great big body up against her. She couldn't resist a groan as she felt familiar pressure against her lower belly through his slacks.

Then she heard someone slam their palms against the glass behind her head.

M and H broke apart to see the shop owner fussing at them in Italian about the indecent display, and the spell shattered around them. M brushed her mussed hair out of her face and blinked in realization.

"...wait, where'd he go?"

H pulled his shades back on and scanned the street. "Oh. He, uh, he ran past us, just as I thought he might."

"How far away is he?"

H cleared his throat and blushed. "Oh, several...kilometers or so. Um, we should really get going before he circles back around."

"Right." She fell in step with him on the sidewalk at a quick pace, doing her best not to think about the fact that if the suspect had run that away far hunting for them that they had to have been kissing for quite some time.

And yet she felt like she could have gone on kissing H for a lot longer.

* * *

That night, M lay wide awake cursing every god and deity she could possibly think of.

She'd tried every trick she knew. Meditation. Cold shower. Long, hot bubble bath. Herbal tea. Yoga.

She just couldn't stop thinking about that kiss.

The only word she could think of to describe how she felt was simply hungry. H had made her hunger for more of that kiss, for that delectable contact of skin on skin, to be wrapped in sinewy arms and kissed absolutely senseless for no reason other than it just felt so fucking great. She'd truly forgotten. Hell, she may not ever have had it that good to begin with. It was no secret that H was a Casanova, whether it be within MIB itself or outside of it. From what she could tell, he was a good boy and tried not to have flings with other agents, but she knew the rumor mill, at least. The man could certainly charm the panties off any woman he wanted, human or alien. Apparently, all that practice made him one hell of a kisser.

"This is stupid," M told her ceiling fan as she lay in bed. "It's Henry. _Henry,_ for God's sake! He's a bumbling idiot and he frustrates the hell out of you. He's sloppy and noisy and he drinks too much and he parties all the time and he never turns his paperwork in. You know better."

She crossed her arms and repeated the facts to herself over and over again. Logic. Hard logic. Inescapable logic.

And yet the space between her thighs ached and ached and ached some more.

M shut her eyes with a groan. "Come on. Don't do this to me. Forget it. Forget him. It was just a stupid kiss. You've kissed guys before and you got over it."

_Not him. Not like that. He kissed you like you were the only woman in the whole world and you know it._

"So? He kisses every woman like that, probably."

_And when is the last time you've seen him go out on a date?_

She opened her mouth, then stopped, and frowned. "Oh. I guess that is kind of a good point."

_What if he's hung up on you?_

"He isn't," she spat defensively.

_You don't know that._

"I do too. Henry is not interested in me. I'm his partner. Period. And I'm not interested in him either."

_Really?_

"Yes."

_Then why can't you sleep?_

"I'm not tired."

_Uh-huh._

"Shut it! We're not having this conversation. It was one dumb kiss and it will never happen again."

_If you say so._

M stubbornly shut her eyes, determined to force herself to sleep.

It didn't work.

-

M slumped into the office the next day with a triple espresso, glumly sipping it to keep her eyes open. She'd have to make up some kind of excuse to leave early. She would never survive a whole shift this tired.

She'd just begun the incident report when she heard the chair wheels of the desk next to hers squeaking with the arrival of her partner. She tried not to fidget and made an attempt to look and sound like herself as she greeted him. "Morning, H."

"Morning, M," he mumbled. She glanced over to see him without his usual sunny smile, and holding a coffee cup of his own, sipping it deeply.

A stone dropped into her belly.

Had...had he not slept well either?

For the same reason that she hadn't?

M faced forward in her chair, mentally kicking herself. No, that would be absurd. Focus. Get back to work.

They worked in silence for most of the day until lunchtime, and both ordered in rather than facing the outside world. They ate their Thai food in the same strange silence as before, but just as he finished, H finally sighed.

"About yesterday."

Her heart rate kicked up into the millions. "Yes?"

"I, um, I hope I didn't...make you feel...uncomfortable."

"Uh, no, it's okay," she lied. "It worked effectively. You made the right call. I was fine--I mean, it was--"

M cursed herself and settled with, "I wasn't uncomfortable, but thanks anyway."

H let out a long breath. "Good. Then we're okay, right?"

"Right as rain," she said.

He scooped up their trash and headed for the recycling area. M hung her head and covered her face with both hands. "I'm in such deep shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *maniacal laughter*


	6. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIKE THE RATING ON THIS FIC EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.

M did her best to pretend everything was right as rain, but it wasn't.

Things that had been easy, simple, and effortless with Agent H became nerve-wracking, awkward, and confusing for her. She hadn't realized just how much simple contact she had with him on a daily basis until her...well, appetite...changed. She hadn't realize how often he casually touched her, how often he smiled and teased her, how close they had become after over a year of friendship and partnership.

And it was driving her _crazy_.

It wasn't like she hadn't felt the temptation for sex in the past. She wasn't thrilled about it, but she had her own battery-operated substitute in her apartment, but it had been ages since she'd felt those urges on account of how she'd disciplined herself to stay focused on her work. Maybe once or twice every few months.

Now, it was almost every night.

She tried not to hate herself for it, but part of her did resent how one kiss from H had her in bed late at night, moaning into her pillow as she fucked herself hard and swore that this time would be the last time, and she wouldn't think about Henry the whole time, wouldn't picture him shirtless with his slacks undone, those big hands on her thighs, pulling her back against him as he fucked her into the mattress like a wild animal. She knew it was just human nature to seek pleasure. She knew she was being too hard on herself, that she'd been suppressing years and years of sexual desire, thinking she had eliminated it entirely when all she had actually done was create a dam, and H had effectively broken it into smithereens.

It went on that way for weeks, her own personal hell, trapped pretending that everything was fine when in reality she wanted to shove him down on his chair at work and fuck him into oblivion. She couldn't figure out how to reverse it, how to get back to the sterile little world she knew, how to forget a kiss that had only been to hide them from an enemy, how to un-want her best friend. The center would not hold forever. She would have to do something, change something, or she'd go mad.

One night, she was boiling herself alive in a bubble bath with some Sade in the background as an attempt to de-stress, when her doorbell rang. She groaned in protest and waited to see if the person would wander off if she didn't answer, but they persisted, so she climbed out. She threw on a large t-shirt and boy shorts before stomping to the door and ripping it open.

Only to find H standing there.

"Oh," she said. "Hey, what's up? Something wrong?"

He didn't smile, and he didn't answer the question, which bothered her. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah." She stepped aside and he walked in. She shut the door behind him and threw on her usual friendly look of interest. "Can I get you something?"

"No," H said quietly, and he started to pace, running a hand through his hair.

She watched him, growing worried. "H, seriously, something's obviously bothering you. What is it?"

He finally stopped and sighed, finally meeting her gaze. "You."

M licked her lips nervously. "Me?"

He nodded solemnly. "Molly, something is different between us. I want you to tell me what I have done to upset you."

"Henry," she said gently. "You haven't done anything. What makes you think something's different?"

"It feels like you have been avoiding me," he said, and the frustration in his tone made her heart sting. "Pulling away, as if I have hurt you. If I have, I want to apologize. You're important to me. I don't..."

He sighed. "I don't have anyone but you. I know I seem like I have this grand social life, but this relationship is the most important thing to me that I have, and I don't want to lose it."

Her lungs constricted. She'd underestimated him. A lot, in fact. H was so carefree sometimes that she forgot how smart and perceptive he had always been. She thought she'd been hiding it well, but apparently she was just kidding herself.

"It's not...you're not..." M faltered, having no idea where to start. "It's...complicated."

He swallowed hard. "Do you...not want to be partners anymore?"

She darted forward before she knew it and gripped his hands, squeezing them. "No, no, that's not it at all. Don't even put that thought in your head. We do amazing work together and I would never want that to happen."

Some of the tension left him. "Okay. Then, please, go on. What is it?"

She stared up into those baby blues. There was no way in hell she could tell him. How would that sound? He was her touchstone, for God's sake. Her best friend, her support system. He'd taught her a lot of what she already knew as an agent.

And that kiss had only been because of their job.

"I...have been struggling with some things that I don't know how to handle," M mumbled in the end, staring at their clasped hands. She couldn't look at him or she'd lose her nerve. She didn't want to lie to him, not ever, but maybe she could just skirt around the issue. "And that's why I've been avoiding you. I need to get it figured out, that's all. Then everything will go back to normal. I'm sorry if I made you feel like it was your fault."

He snorted. "You're the one struggling and you're apologizing to me? What's wrong with this picture?"

She smiled weakly. "Oh, shut up."

He lifted one hand enough to brush his thumb over her cheekbone. "Well, even if you won't tell me what it is, just know I can at least try to help if you let me. If you want me to. You're not alone, you know. You've always got me."

"I know, you big idiot." He slipped his arms around her and hugged her. She didn't fight it. As tangled a knot as her feelings were, the hug was warm and comforting and exactly what she needed right now. She listened to the steady cadence of his heartbeat for a while, and he made no move to pull away, seeming in no hurry at all, and she savored that. He had nowhere else he wanted to be right now. He just wanted to be with her. It was a selfish and wonderful thought.

He shifted slightly, and she felt the graze of his five o'clock shadow against her temple. "Molly?"

"Mm?"

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you ever think about the time we kissed?"

M froze.

He felt her stiffen in his arms, and cursed softly. "Sorry, that was--I don't know what I was thinking--"

"I-It's fine," she said, pulling away. "I should--we should probably, um--"

She yipped in alarm as she backed into the couch. "It's late, and we should get to bed--I mean, I should get to bed, not we."

"Molly," he said again, softer this time.

She cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"Do you remember when I taught you how to flirt?"

M frowned, thinking it over. "Um, yeah, why?"

H stepped towards her slowly, and with every step, her pulse quickened. "I never told you that you have a tell."

"A tell? What kind of tell?"

"You stop making eye contact when you're nervous," he said, leaning down to her height and placing his hands on either side of her thighs. "Why are you nervous right now, Molly?"

She swallowed. "I don't know."

"I think you do know," he murmured. "But you don't want to say it out loud."

"Say what?"

"That the reason you get nervous when I get close to you is because you're thinking about that kiss."

"I don't--I'm not--"

"And you should know," H continued. "I've thought about that kiss every single day since it happened."

She fell silent abruptly. The air in the room vanished. She couldn't think straight with him standing so close to her, unafraid of admitting the thing she'd been trying to hide for so long.

"You do?" she whispered back.

He leaned in towards her, one centimeter at a time, his voice so quiet it gave her goosebumps. "Every... _single_...day."

He kissed her. Gently. So gently. As if she would break if he did it any harder.

And the dam finally broke.

M threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her lips, all thoughts of restraint and logic gone, just a basic, animal need left burning a hole in her tight center. Apparently, he had been waiting for her wordless permission. He scooped her up off the back of the couch, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her over to lay her down against the cushion, kissing her back just as hungrily.

She whimpered as his huge, heavy frame settled above her, his knees pushing her legs apart to give him room to move. She couldn't get enough of him, of his taste, of his scent, of his heat, and she clawed his tie until it unraveled loose upon the floor. She yanked the dress shirt out of his slacks and ran her hands up underneath it, moaning into his mouth as she felt his smooth, scorching skin beneath it. She ripped the shirt open and buttons scattered with little pings and clicks on the hardwood floor. H groaned as she raked her nails down his bare chest and pushed the hem of her shirt over the shorts. He rolled them off her legs and one hand vanished between their lower bodies.

He slipped one long finger inside her, and she screamed into his mouth.

M spread her legs wider, her spine arching as heat soaked her skin and seeped down into her bones. She lifted her hips towards him with a needy moan and he obliged without hesitation, pumping the digit into her slick channel as he kissed her. She rode his hand, clinging to him, her breath like fire in her lungs as she climbed towards her climax. It didn't take long, not after years and years of neglect, and in minutes her toes curled and she writhed beneath him, letting out soft, shuddering moans against his lips as she came on his fingers.

And before she knew it, the words slipped out of her. "Fuck me, Henry."

Something purely male and purely lustful slid into his eyes then. He pushed on one hand and licked his fingers clean, making sure she watched him, and then undid his belt and zipper. He shoved the slacks down enough to free himself and then tugged her closer, running those big, hot hands down her bare thighs until he could grip one in each. Her curvy bottom lifted off of the couch and he delved inside her for the first time.

M came undone.

Simmering heat bubbled up from between her thighs and consumed her from head to toe. His cock was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, so much bigger, so much thicker, so much better than the couple of lovers she'd had before. He took his time, his breaths shallow and excited, slipping inch after inch into her until she could take no more. The tightness at her center that had been there since their first kiss unwound immediately. This was it. Exactly what she needed. Exactly who she needed it from.

H held her aloft, her plush thighs resting along his forearms, her calves automatically wrapping around his middle, and gave her everything she wanted.

M gripped two handfuls of the cushion beneath her head and cried out his name in long-awaited joy.

He fucked her steadily, smoothly, deeply, somehow perfectly in control and perfectly in tune with her. Every thrust hit right on the mark, the flat surface of his pelvis grazing her clit, his fingers squeezing her thighs at just the right moments, his low moans of satisfaction sending zings of pleasure up her body.

"Fucking hell, Molly," Henry growled. "Bloody fucking hell, you're gorgeous."

"Fuck, Henry," she moaned, her voice hoarse with wanton need. "Harder. Please. Harder, please, Henry."

He shuddered and licked his lips, his eyes tracing the long lines of her sides as her shirt lifted up to just underneath her breasts, a tantalizing peek at even more beauty. "You can have me any way you want, darling. Any way at all."

He widened his stance and snapped his hips to meet hers, and the strokes shortened but hit just the right spot. M twisted in his grip, light sweat drenching her flat stomach, her legs, and she bit her lip to stifle a scream as he pounded that sensitive point inside her begging for attention.

"Oh, oh, oh, _ooh_ , there, right there, please, please, Henry," M whimpered, her lithe legs holding him tighter as she neared her orgasm. He slid his hands down further, cupping her ass, rolling his hips with each thrust, grinding her clit, his voice devious in her ears.

"Come for me, Molly. You're so sweet. _So_ sweet. I want you to come."

He sunk down on top of her, one hand holding his weight, the other still curled around her ass as he kept circling his hips, his cock pulsing hard inside her, fucking her deeper than she'd ever felt in her life. He kissed his way up her throat to her lips, his voice pure, dark silk as he whispered, "Come for me, Molly, come just for me."

With one final cry, she melted around him.

She let go of the couch enough to rake her nails down his back as her body gave out underneath him, undulating, convulsing, gyrating again and again as the tidal wave of pleasure dragged her down into its depths. She released it all, every impulse, every hungry need, every hidden part of herself. She let go of that stubborn sense of control and allowed the sweet nirvana of touch and intimacy and desire and pleasure fill her to the brim. Better still, she'd felt it when he reached his limit as well, and it gave her a deep, inexplicable sense of satisfaction as she watched him pull out and spill himself onto her stomach, his breaths deep and shaking, his gorgeous body shuddering with pleasure same as hers. He rested his forehead against her neck and they both just lay there, soaking it all in, finally freed from something neither had even realized kept them captive.

 _"Fuck,"_ Molly reiterated, pushing her tangled curls off of her forehead.

Henry pushed up on one elbow and gave her a lazy smile. "You said that already."

"I know, but..." She licked her lips. "I've _never_ felt that before. With anyone. Not even by myself. Have you?"

He shook his head. "What we just did was not normal. Nothing's ever felt that good before. It was like...I don't know, it was like we were just...perfectly in tuned?"

 _"Right?!"_ Something of a hysterical giggle echoed in her lungs. Here she had been fretting for weeks about what to do, and it turned out one spectacular fuck had solved it all.

Of course, the laughter subsided as a terrible thought occurred to her.

"So now what?"


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H and M navigate the complicated terrain after their first time together.

"H-Henry... _oh_...holy fucking shit...yes!"

M's spine arched as she surged over the edge into her orgasm, flinging her head back, gasping and clutching H's shoulders as every muscle in her body tensed at once. She wriggled above him in his lap, but she didn't get far. He set his lips on her neck, licking, sucking at her pulse, his hands anchoring her to him. He pushed her back down onto his cock, until she took him fully again, smiling against her skin as she bit off another swear and shivered from head to toe. He released one round, curvy cheek of her ass and brought his hand between them, rubbing her clit with two fingers to finish her off for good, and consequently, himself as well. He groaned contently as her slippery inner muscles flexed over his cock in just the right way, releasing him at last, and he let go as well, his come spilling into the condom he'd just barely managed to get on before their second round. M sagged against him in a heap as the glorious sensations peaked and then drained out of her. She didn't even take the time to control her breathing before she planted wet, sloppy, grateful kisses against his lips.

"Why," she panted out in between kisses, half exasperated, half mystified. "Is this so...goddamn... _good?_ "

H chuckled as he stared up at her troubled expression. "Well, for one, you've held off for entire years and you've forgotten how good it feels. For two, not to overstate things, but I am rather good at this. For three, sex is ten times better if you actually like the person you're with instead of just being attracted to them."

He gave her an affectionate little squeeze. "And we both like each other a great deal."

"That's only going to make this harder in the end," she groaned.

H lifted his eyebrows. "Wait, this or..."

He wiggled his hips, indicating where he was still buried inside her. _"This?"_

"Stop that, you naughty thing," she fussed. "You'll make me lose my place. I meant our partnership. Knowing we can...well, do _this_ to each other is going to complicate the hell out of everything."

"Maybe," he agreed, lacing his fingers over the small of her back. "Or maybe it's not so bad."

M eyed him. "How?"

"We could, you know," he said, letting his gaze travel over her. "Become friends with benefits. We are already friends, after all."

M chewed her lower lip in thought. "But doesn't that usually end kind of...messy?"

"Not always. The premise is to provide each other pleasure without getting too attached and without expectations of the relationship escalating. You and I are already so interwoven with each other that I don't think further attachment is really all that possible, and I don't think either of us has any expectations for a future relationship. We're MIB. The only relationships we'll ever have permanently are with each other and the agency. There's no need to fret about a wedding or significant others. We both know we won't have either, not unless we quit someday."

She frowned as she considered his words. "But won't our behavior be different? It might tip someone off."

"I hate to tell you this, Molls, but the entire office already thinks we're having sex."

Her jaw dropped. "They do not."

He cleared his throat and tried his best not to smirk. "I believe the pot is now at about two-thousand pounds."

She seethed. "Jerks."

"To be fair, we did just prove them all right."

"Still, though." She sighed. "It would be risky."

"Just like everything else we do."

"What if the relationship starts to change?"

"Then we stop," he said firmly. "Cold turkey. Mind-blowing sex is not worth losing your friendship. I would never want that and I don't think you would either. Deal?"

She smiled and leaned down for his lips again, sealing the agreement with a kiss. "Deal."

A sly, devilish look returned to his handsome features. "Now, if you don't mind, there are quite a few things I've been wanting to do to you over the last few weeks. I do hope you'll indulge me before we have to turn in for the night."

M swiveled her hips slightly, mirroring that same sly look. "I could be persuaded in that direction."

Beaming, he scooped her up effortlessly as he stood. M squeaked in surprise as he carried her to the bedroom and settled her on the mattress. She couldn't look anywhere else than at him as he straightened up enough to finish undressing; in their haste, he still wore his slacks, and she still had her t-shirt.

"Should we, you know, discuss...boundaries, I guess?" M suggested, her gaze hungrily fixed on the way his smooth skin rippled over his abs as he let his pants fall away.

"An excellent idea," H replied, kicking off his shoes. "You've mentioned boyfriends before. How many?"

"Just two," M said as she peeled off her t-shirt. H licked his lips as he beheld her bare breasts for the first time, pert and round, just enough for a handful each. He remained standing for the moment and slid his hands up her calves until he hit the back of her knees. M shuddered and let out a gasp as his fingertips traced slow, patient circles over her weak spot, almost ashamed at how much wetter it made her. "One in...mm...high school, and one in college. After that, I decided to just stay on my own as I got closer to tracking down the agency."

"So you know the basics, but not much more than that?"

She nodded. "Is that...a problem for you?"

"Not in the slightest." He leaned down enough to place a soft kiss against the inside of her right knee, and M's eyes rolled back. "I just didn't want there to be any surprises, that's all. I've always been pretty straightforward. I like to play the field. I like to tease. I don't mind sharing control. I'm open to trying things."

He bit down lightly over her inner thigh, his smirk widening. "And if I'm being honest, I am very interested in finding out what you like. I think there is a sexual deviant hiding within you, and I would very much like to meet her."

M blushed profusely. "A deviant?"

"Mm-hmm," he rumbled, his tongue making a deliberate pass over her femoral artery. "You are very wicked when you want to be. I want more of that. I want you to be open with me. Tell me yes. Tell me no. However you want it, whenever you want it, tell me everything."

"I very much like where this is headed so far," she mumbled drunkenly, her breathing increasing tenfold the closer he drifted towards her pussy.

"I would like a taste," he said, running his hands down the outside of her thighs. "If that's alright with you."

"It's very, _very_ alright with me."

H grinned and tugged her closer, lifting each thigh to rest on his broad shoulders, winking before he sank down to meet her.

"Oh, _Jesus_." M gripped two handfuls of the covers underneath her as H's tongue flicked out enough to make a single pass over her drenched outer walls. Her nerves sizzled with pleasure. It danced up her bare body and wound around her spine. Heat pooled in her belly as he traced over her edges before journeying inward.

M snatched the pillow from the head of the bed, shoved it over her face, and screamed into it.

H's shoulders shook with silent laughter at her reaction, but he didn't stop, only parting his soft lips wider to touch even more. His tongue sunk into her silken heat as far as it could before it withdrew, and M's legs abruptly snapped closed around his head as the pleasure skyrocketed inside her. He chuckled and pushed them apart again before resuming his work; he carefully traced her folds, delving in every so often, his lips sucking at just the right moments, driven on by the muffled cries that left her. He groaned as he felt her lifting her hips, pressing up into him in need, and he licked faster, deeper, passing his hot mouth across her clit every other stroke until he felt her shaking underneath him.

At just the right moment, he reached up and yanked the pillow away. M made a little noise of dismay at her cover being snatched, whining his name in protest.

"I want to hear you," he murmured, his lips curving up in a sinister smile. "I want to hear it when you come, Molly. Won't you come for me?"

He angled his mouth over her clit again, sinking two fingers into her and beckoning them. M gasped and gripped the back of his head, losing her fingers in his hair as he brought her to the edge. She stiffened on the bed and cried out as her body gave way under his talented tongue and fingers, the heat that had been gathering at her core releasing in a scorching burst. She rocked against him helplessly, shivering as she felt the vibrations traveling up her stomach as he moaned upon feeling her come. He helped her down from her climax with patient, feather-light kisses over her inner thighs, and then trailed them up her belly, her ribs, claiming each one of her breasts with patient appreciation. M sighed when he made it to her lips and cradled his narrow hips with her legs, her arms loose around his neck.

"God, you're dangerous," she slurred, her eyelids heavy from the euphoria still racing through her. "How am I ever going to survive you?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way," he mused. "Clever girl."

"So, uh, how serious were about that whole honesty thing?" she asked with feigned innocence.

"Fairly serious."

"Serious enough to maybe, I don't know, roll me over and fuck me from behind like a complete savage?"

He pretended to think about it. "I think perhaps that might be possible."

She would never say as much, but the fact that he was so down with what she wanted sent thrills through her from head to toe. She had only somewhat believed him when he'd complimented her in the past, always assuming a guy that handsome would want nothing but perfect, stick-thin model type girls, and here he was appreciating every inch of her as if it were in his job description.

He pushed up on his hands with that signature smirk in place, giving her the room to move, and she flopped over onto her belly, blushing up a storm despite the fact that this was her idea. She'd die before telling him this had been her ultimate fantasy for weeks, the one image burned into her overactive imagination, the thought that possessed her on those lonely nights.

M exhaled quickly as he closed in from behind her, his hands cupping her breasts and then sliding slowly, patiently, down her sides to grip her waist. She fought not to squirm impatiently as she heard the crinkle of the foil as he applied another condom, her mouth running away with her before she could stop it. "Did you come here specifically to have sex with me or do you just carry condoms around all the time?"

"I have been an agent for several years, you know," he teased. "You must always be prepared."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, pursing her lips. "You didn't answer my question."

"What do you think?" he challenged, dropping a kiss to the small of her back. "Do you think I came here to seduce you?"

"I refuse to believe you can plan ahead this well."

"Maybe, maybe not. It's much more fun if I leave you hanging." She had a quip ready, but he chose that moment to align their lower bodies, and her mind simply went blank. He was just heavenly to look at, all tall and blonde and golden, smiling at her as if she were the only thing worth a damn in the world. And the bastard had the nerve to wink as he caught her staring. She flushed again and quickly faced the headboard.

And that was when he struck.

She'd only felt the quick brush of his fingertips before his cock slid into her, and the whole world just inverted itself from how goddamn phenomenal it felt. His strong fingers wrapped around her hips as he pushed and pushed and pushed some more, filling her completely. A strangled moan escaped her, her fingers balling into fists on the sheets, her mouth stumbling on a curse as the all-consuming nirvana raced through her veins once again.

Bless him, H rubbed his thumbs along her skin, gently asking, "Are you--"

"Fine," she gasped out, fighting to stay on all fours from how good it felt. "Don't stop, keep going, please."

She bit her lip as he withdrew and thrust in a second time, sending a pulse of delectable heat through her yet again. She heard him purring in approval this time and his hands spread out over her ass, cupping and caressing and exploring before he completed that third stroke. He widened the stance of his knees, and then he began to fuck her in earnest.

"Oh _God_ , Henry, don't stop!" M dissolved into hoarse, breathy moans as he pummeled her on the bed, every thrust strong and centered right where she needed it. The wet slap of her ass against his hips and thighs only aroused her more, escalating the pleasure to a boiling point in mere minutes. She loved his rolling growls and breathy groans as he took her, each one sending goosebumps flaring over her sweaty, naked skin. Her slippery inner muscles tightened around the hard column of his cock in warning. The pleasure sharpened, sweetened, until her toes curled and she shoved her face into the sheets, trying to stifle the scream building in her lungs.

Somehow, H knew precisely how to send her off the deep end again.

He molded that huge, heavy frame against her spine, sinking down on top of her until she lay flat to the bed, and buried one hand between her trembling thighs. His rough fingertips circled her clit in time with his devious hips, forcing her to the brink in seconds, kissing a line of fire up the back of her shoulder to her throat.

"Now," he whispered roughly in her ear, so deep he couldn't fit another inch inside her. "Come now, Molly."

He shuddered as her slender fingers joined his between her legs, pushing harder and harder up against her spot, until she finally screamed his name and tumbled into a blissful state yet again. He followed her immediately, his eyes falling shut as he claimed his own release atop her soft, quivering form. They both went limp, though H had just enough coherence left to shift his weight onto his free arm so as not to crush her completely. A chorus of panting filled the air for several minutes afterward, neither partner budging an inch as they soared through their respective orgasms.

"Fucking hell," H sighed wistfully, kissing the tender spot under her left shoulder blade. "You're the best partner _ever_."

M collapsed into snorting, exhausted giggles before she could stop herself. "I am, aren't I?"


	8. Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M and H get settled into their new Friends with Benefits dynamic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the shorter pieces, but don't worry, more to come. Pun intended.

If M ever had to try to describe the next few weeks of her life, it would be an X-rated montage set to "Get Some" by Lykke Li.

Damn near every night since their first time, H and M found themselves fucking like horny teenagers.

She thought maybe that first time had been a fluke, and she'd wake up the next day with her logic firmly in place again, and she'd think of the consequences of crossing the line with her partner. Instead, she woke up the next morning in his muscular arms, warm and safe and wanted, her body already begging for more of his electric sex. What she hadn't considered the whole time she'd been longing for him and struggling alone with her cursed libido was that it wasn't like taking a pill to fix a problem once and for all. No, sex with Henry was an ache beneath her skin, only sated once they were both naked and entwined, chasing their pleasure together.

Short fucks. Long fucks. Rough fucks. Soft fucks. Couch fucks. Shower fucks. Car fucks. Club fucks. Over and over and over, each time just as delicious as the last. She had never known just how good a man could make her feel, and for more than just a couple of minutes. Henry had the stamina of a several men combined. If she didn't stop him, he'd fuck her right through the night and into the morning, which she discovered one fateful weekend. She'd spent that Sunday in a haze, asleep underneath his arm, completely and utterly fucked out and both exasperated with herself but pleased.

M also learned things she hadn't known about herself. She could be upfront and demanding about everything in her life, and yet in his bed, she found herself liking it when he took control. He had incredible intuition about things she would like, things they should try, and through it all, he never forgot consent. Somehow, it aroused her even more to hear that careful, concerned, but excited voice in her ear asking if what he did to her was okay and she'd always reply in the positive.

More than that, he urged her to trust her instincts. She'd never been a confident lover until Henry. The first time she rode him in bed had been hot and salacious and scary. She hadn't been sure if he would like how she moved and yet he whispered gentle encouragements the whole time, his hands guiding her steadily until they both met their release.

It was some time before it hit her that she was having fun with him.

Every night after work had the promise of something exciting and secretive. After all, both of them were so comfortable with each other by now that their behavior at work didn't change.

Well.

Mostly.

There had been a long, boring meeting during which H thought it would be funny to slide his hand along her knee up to her thigh and gently press up against that sweet spot on her leg he knew about just to see if he could get a rise out of her. She knew full well she should have made him stop, but it made her outstandingly horny to try to school her face so that she didn't tip anyone off to his inappropriate touching.

And afterward, she'd shoved him into the back of his car and fucked his brains out, both of them still in their suits.

For a short time, she worried he would treat her differently, maybe lose his respect for her when he'd seen her naked and made her call for God and countless other things, and yet he was still the same sweet, thoughtful doofus she'd come to care for since they met. He still ordered them pizza on Friday nights and curled up with her on the couch to watch her favorite shows. He still shared his bear claw and coffee with her if she'd woken up late and left the house without breakfast. He still trained her in the gym and practiced at the target range.

He was still...him. Her partner. Her best friend.

Friends with benefits, she decided, didn't even _begin_ to cover it.

One of said benefits that delighted her was that after a particularly good romp, she’d confessed to wanting a nice, long bubble bath and H surprised her by asking to join. What delighted her even more was that it wasn’t an excuse to sex her up some more; he actually climbed into the tub and plopped her in his lap, and they lay there in the steaming hot water sharing a bowl of fresh cherries and asking each other random personal questions they hadn’t gotten around to earlier in their friendship.

“Hmm…how old were you when they recruited you?” M asked, peeling the sweet fruit in half and dropping the pit in one small bowl. She ate her piece and passed the other back to H, who ate it and licked her fingertips enough to make her giggle.

“Barely drinking age,” he admitted. “You went through the proper channels of trying to become an FBI agent. I actually just sort of…fell into this by accident. I used to be a con man.”

She swiveled her head enough to look at him, her jaw dropping. “No way.”

“Yes way,” he chuckled. “I was in the middle of a con when High T stumbled into the mess, and we got each other out of it. He asked me if I was really doing what I was meant to do, and I said no. Just had a lot of bad luck, so I pretty much survived off wit and charm to pay the bills and keep off the streets. He brought me into the fold that very night.”

“Wow,” she murmured as she grabbed another cherry. “That…wasn’t at all what I had thought. I thought you were maybe an army brat or something.”

“No, just an unlucky orphan with a juvie record who grew up big and strong. Nothing more. I wasn’t as smart or talented as you, and that’s why…” He trailed off, and she shifted until she could see him.

“Why what? Come on, don’t leave me hanging, partner.” She brought the cherry half up to his lips. He smiled faintly and ate it.

“Not sure it’s good for you to hear my sob story. Might ruin the mood.”

She read his expression. As always, his charm was just a smokescreen. She could tell he was hesitant to share this sort of thing with anyone, and the fact that he’d even told her the first part of it meant he really did trust her. She folded her hands on one of his broad shoulders, propping her chin on it, and gave him a soft smile in return.

“I want to know everything about you, lover boy. Regale me. I can take it.”

It was almost imperceptible, but he sighed in relief. “I…often get the sense from other agents that I don’t deserve to be here because I was taken in as a stray. Not everyone knows that about me, mind you, but they do know I just showed up one day and High T took me under his wing. I was the golden boy, and that never faded until…”

He cleared his throat, and she finished the words in her head: _he died_. “But you did know him before the Hive took him. He was a good man and a great agent and he believed in you, even after seeing what you did for a living. That sort of thing can’t be faked, you know. You are a fantastic agent, Henry. Whether you believe High T or not. I’ve seen you out there. You…come alive when you’re out in the field. It’s kind of amazing.”

Something vulnerable shone through for a moment in those summer sky eyes of his, and she nearly wanted to fall into them. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Her breath caught. Being him, she would have assumed he’d heard such things from loads of paramours, but apparently not. She cleared her throat and lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Thought that would be about your dick size or something.”

H bellowed in laughter. She couldn’t help giggling as she continued. “What? It’s a nice dick, H. Top of the line, actually. It’s an Academy Award-worthy dick.”

He pulled her to straddle him so he could look into her eyes, still shaking with laughter. “When did you get so crass?”

She shrugged and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Been hanging out with you too much, I guess.”

M paused and gave him a sly look as she felt pressure against the inside of one thigh. “Speaking of which.”

“Such a dirty mind,” he chided her. “I remind you that we entered this bath to get clean, not get filthy all over again. Behave yourself, young lady.”

“I’m not the one misbehaving,” she purred, slinking her hand down into the bubbles until she found her target. H purred right back and glanced down at her lips in contemplation. “You are.”

“All your fault,” he murmured after stealing a sweet, dark cherry-flavored kiss. “You’ve corrupted me. I was such a good boy before I met you.”

The kisses deepened, and his hands wandered, his voice lowering to that tone that made her pussy clench with want and need and selfish eagerness. “Are you a bad girl, M? Are you my bad girl?”

She moaned against his lips, aroused beyond belief for reasons she didn’t understand. “God, yes.”

She fucked him in the tub that night, water and suds sloshing everywhere, her moans echoing off the tile floor and the walls, a couple of candles blowing out from the air displacement of their frantic movements. Afterward, they toweled off and collapsed into her bed in one big pile. M thought she would hate cuddling and snuggling with someone, but H was warm and comfortable and she could doze off in his arms in under a minute if she wasn’t careful. She got used to the snoring after only a month, and used to the way he would roll over and drag her into his grip, passing out with his face in her hair, mumbling her name in his sleep. She pretended it didn’t prick her heart just a little bit.

After all, what harm could it do?


	9. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent M has a worrisome realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I wrote the last few chapters (so far, don't worry, haven't decided how long the total collection will be) and so this is part of a batch, so don't fuss at me about it being so short. They're all plopping in at once.

_Why does this feel so good?_

M had asked that the second time she fucked H, in a haze of hormones and sweat and just having experienced one hell of a good orgasm, but she hadn't really contemplated it. Until now, that is.

Now, she was lying flat on H's rumpled bed, her golden-brown legs cradling his narrow hips, one of her arms pinned by his forearm, her other hand clutching the small of his back and every so often roaming down over that full, taut ass of his as he set a steady, relentless pace. H had a terribly evil habit of sometimes using his height and strength against her, and leaving her a willing captive to his wicked delights. He liked to catch her this way, missionary-style, and fuck her slowly, deliberately, drawing her pleasure out again and again but not quite letting her climax so he could enjoy her body for longer. She had a serious love-hate relationship with this bad habit of his.

Here, she got to appreciate him in ways other positions didn't allow. She got to feel the solid muscle and smooth skin against her belly, her thighs, her chest. When she could manage to keep her eyes open, she got to enjoy the little smug but handsome smirks on his lips as he swayed above her, those blue eyes twinkling like uncut gems in a cave. She got to appreciate how flexible and observant he could be as he slipped in and out of her, every thrust more delicious than the last.

And M couldn't hold anything in when H had her this way. Hoarsely muttered curses and high-pitched mewls filled the electric air of the bedroom when H rode her, fucking her deeply, his lips tasting her moans every so often. It wasn't as if she wasn't vocal to begin with, but oh, could H get sounds out of her in this position. She would have been more ashamed if she didn't love every second of his sweet torture.

"Mm, Henry," she mumbled, struggling to open her eyes to the pleasure currently intoxicating her. "Slow down or...I'm not gonna...last."

Her partner chuckled as he kissed a line down the column of her throat, ending it with a little nibble at her collarbone. "Who said you had to last at all?"

"Me," M insisted, but without heat or conviction. She felt too good to be able to put much weight behind the word.

"I don't think you want to last," he teased in her ear. "I think you want to fall apart for me right now."

"Shut up," she said defiantly, but she felt her lips curling up in a playful smile anyway.

"It's true," he said, settling above her so that their eyes met. He wiggled his hips, those insidious things, and she bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out the way she wanted to. "Admit it. You want to give in to me right now, don't you? That is what this beautiful body is telling me."

Damn him. She didn't know if it was the accent or the depth of his voice, but H's dirty talk drove her so crazy her toes curled just hearing him say such things. Her tongue tied itself into a knot. She couldn't manage anything back, not even an affirmative or dismissive noise. He wasn't wrong. She was so close, just dangling near the edge of the abyss.

"Mm, you're trembling," H drawled, lowering those golden lashes to fix her with that fiery, intense eye contact he enjoyed so much. "You want it, don't you? You want to come for me. You know exactly how much I love watching you come, don't you, Molly? I could make you come a thousand times and I'd still want more."

He pushed her thighs further apart with his knees and captured her ear lobe between those soft, wet lips. Her nails dug into his skin, damn near hard enough to break through, a gasp tearing out of her as he hit just the right spot inside her, and it all threatened to come crashing down at once. Before, she had always tried to grip the sheets, not wanting to accidentally hurt him, until he'd told her it turned him on if she left marks. He liked them, liked being marked by her, as if it were somehow proof that he belonged to her.

And the scary part was that maybe he did.

_Why does this feel so good?_

_Because he’s yours._


	10. Tangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M realizes she's made a fatal mistake.

“Can I take you out some time?”

M’s reply tumbled from her lips before she even had a chance to think about it. “Thanks, but no, I’m seeing someone.”

She stopped dead, replayed the words back in her head, and then felt all the blood drain out of her face. The polite, and utterly adorable, waiter smiled at her before she could say anything. “Oh, excuse me then. I hope you have a great day, miss.”

The waiter paused, his smile widening. “And he’s a lucky guy, whoever he is.”

M hurriedly stuffed her receipt into her pocket and almost ran home. Once she arrived, she slammed the door shut and simply yelled, “FUCK!” as loudly as possible, knowing with a soundproofed apartment that it wouldn’t disturb anyone, just her.

“Fuck,” she said again, with feeling, raking her disheveled curls away from her slightly sweaty forehead, panting from a combination of rushing over to her place and from a miniature panic attack building in her chest. “Why did I say that? I’m not dating Henry. We’re just fooling around. Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck!”_

She took off her jacket and boots and paced over the hardwood floor in her den, shutting her eyes. “Okay, Molly, no big deal, think it through. Why did you tell him that?”

The apartment’s silence unnerved her. It was too quiet, and her thoughts were too loud. She plopped her phone on the counter and hit Shuffle on her music, hoping for a track that might help her clear her head.

_“I’m not in love_   
_So don’t forget it_   
_It’s just a silly phase I’m going through_   
_And just because I call you up_   
_Don’t get me wrong_   
_Don’t think you’ve got it made_   
_I’m not love, no, no…”_

M stared at her phone in annoyed disbelief.

_“I’d like to see you_   
_But then again_   
_That doesn’t mean you mean that much to me_   
_So if I call you_   
_Don’t make a fuss_   
_Don’t tell your friends about the two of us_   
_I’m not in love, no, no…”_

She snarled and hit the Next button.

_“I can be an asshole of the grandest kind_   
_I can withhold like it’s going out of style_   
_I can be the moodiest baby_   
_And you’ve never met anyone as negative as I am sometimes_   
_I am the wisest woman you’ve ever met_   
_I am the kindest soul with whom you’ve connected_   
_I have the bravest heart that you’ve ever seen_   
_And you’ve never met anyone as positive as I am sometimes_   
_You see everything_   
_You see every part_   
_You see all my light_   
_And you love my dark_   
_You dig everything of which I’m ashamed_   
_There’s not anything to which you can’t relate_   
_And you’re still here—”_

M smashed the Pause button and shouted, “Okay, fine! I’ll deal with it.”

She quit pacing and took a deep breath. “You obviously said that for a reason. Maybe…we haven’t just been fooling around for the sake of sex. Maybe we’ve been actually dating each other and just calling it fooling around. Maybe…”

She licked her lower lip, her heart racing as the words spilled out. “…you care about him. And you like being around him. And you want to protect him and…and make him…happy.”

M sighed at herself. “And maybe you want more out of this relationship than originally agreed upon and you should do the right thing and tell him.”

As if on cue, her phone rang.

She yipped and leapt away from it like she’d been stung. Then she calmed and peeked to see the doofy selfie he’d snapped of himself for his profile when he called her. M stared at it as if it were going to eat her. She didn’t want to talk to him right now, not when she was raw and shaking with the knowledge that she’d violated their agreement. Then again, H was persistent. He’d keep calling or text her until she answered, so she took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, muffin,” H said in his adorable teasing voice. “How was lunch?”

“Fine,” she said as brightly as possible. “Just fine.”

“Good. Listen, I’ve got this massive craving for Italian. Want that for dinner tonight?”

She wanted to tell him not tonight with every fiber of her being, but she also knew better than to draw the problem out. She’d develop an ulcer if she kept this to herself. “Uh, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great! What shall I order you?”

“Anything is fine. You know what I like.” M cringed as she heard herself. Dammit. It was glaringly obvious that they were dating, and she hated herself for not noticing sooner.

“Aww, you trust me,” H cooed. “I might cry, honestly.”

M rolled her eyes. “Stop talking and driving. You don’t have the attention span for it.”

“So hostile. Alright, muffin, I’ll be there around six o’clock. Shall I bring some wine with me?”

“No, I won’t be drinking tonight.”

“Cheers, love.” He hung up. She lowered the phone and stared at it in stupor.

_Cheers, love._

Her heart fluttered.

“Oh, I am so fucked,” she moaned, and then slouched over to the bed to collapse until dinnertime.

She knew she couldn’t entirely act like herself once he arrived, so she threw on some Netflix and they ate on the couch watching it rather than at the table where she was in danger of conversation. He’d even been thoughtful enough to grab her some ice cream on his way here, and the gesture was so familiar and lovely that she wanted to just forget everything she was about to do. But she couldn’t. She owed him honesty.

“H?”

“Mm,” he said, tearing his eyes from the _Luther_ episode they’d been watching.

“I…need to tell you something.”

He nodded gravely and hit the Pause button, sitting up. “I had a feeling. You were too quiet while we ate.”

She winced and faced him, staring at her hands, not brave enough to risk those baby blues. “Today, the waiter at lunch asked me out.”

Painful silence. Then, H said, “oh” softly. She shut her eyes and made herself keep going.

“I didn’t say yes. I said, ‘no, I’m seeing someone.’”

Again, a large, pregnant pause. H cleared his throat and shifted on the couch. “I see.”

“And that’s a problem,” M continued with what little air she had left in her lungs. “Because that’s not what we agreed. We agreed that we would just be friends with benefits. We didn’t agree to date each other.”

“And is that how you feel?” he asked quietly. “As if you are dating me?”

M nodded. He took a deep breath. “And you…do not want to date me?”

“Want has nothing to do with it,” she admitted. “We shouldn’t be dating. We’re partners. And like you said, we don’t want to destroy what we have as friends by developing feelings. Today was a warning sign, I guess. I shouldn’t have said that. I wouldn’t have said that if deep down I didn’t know this has been dating for a while. I kept ignoring it because we were having fun, but I think you know better too.”

“M, I…” He sighed. “I have to respect your opinion. And I will. But—”

“But what?” she asked, this time lifting her gaze to meet his. It killed her, the look he gave her, that look of a man lost at sea, drifting away from his anchor. She hated every word she’d said. Every last one. She wanted to take it back. She wanted to go back to canoodling on the couch with her, well, boyfriend and not worrying about where things were heading. She wanted to simply be with him.

He took her hands and held them, staring down at the stark difference in their skin colors, in how small her fingers looked clasped with his big ones. He didn’t say anything for minutes at a time, and she didn’t press him.

Mostly because she was trying not to cry.

“I understand,” he said eventually. “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Molly.”

She shrugged. “Happens.”

She cleared her throat. It didn’t do anything but just make the huge lump in it move up and down. “Still friends?”

H gave her a watered down version of his usual sunny smile. “Always. You can’t get rid of me that easily, muffin.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, chucked her under the chin, and then left her apartment. She made it all the way to the shower before she broke down crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks all the rotten fruit that you throw at me* STAY THE COURSE I PROMISE I WILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU.


	11. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which M and H realize they are truly dimwitted idiots.

The next few weeks were a hell worse than before M told H she was attracted to him.

Her mind equated it to going on vacation in heaven and then having to return to earth. She had no idea just how happy she’d been with H until she couldn’t kiss him anymore. Both of them made valiant efforts to switch back to how things had been before they started being intimate, but it felt as if someone had punched a hole in their friendship. She felt herself holding back more, and she felt him holding back as well. Neither person wanted the other to hurt, so naturally, they began interacting less and less outside of work. What used to be nightly phone calls would be quick texts. What used to be lunch dates turned into takeout at their desks. What used to be weekly movie nights became quiet reading time for their casefiles, separately in their own apartments.

She hated every single second of it.

M tried to motivate herself to try dating, but things fizzled quickly. All she could do on either of the tentative dates was compare them to H. Her mind would run through a list of all her date’s qualities and remind her of how much they were not H, until she just threw in the towel altogether. She couldn’t fake it, and it was rude to fake it to guys who actually seemed to like her. She was hurting all over again, and that was why he had warned her ahead of time. If only she’d listened.

M jumped a little as C dumped an accordion folder on her desk, too drawn into her morose thoughts to notice him standing there. She scowled and scooped up the folder to untie it as he snickered to himself. “Where’s H?”

“Out to lunch,” she said, pulling out papers.

“Without you?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause. “Uh…when did that start?”

M frowned up at him. “We’re not joined at the hip.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, and then frowned as well. “Something’s not right. You guys have a fight?”

“No, and even if we did, it would be none of your business,” she snapped. “Is there anything else, C?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying. He’s been…well, not himself lately, and neither have you, and everyone’s a little worried, is all.”

“We’re fine,” she said as she popped off the paperclip to the packet. “Just Jim dandy, in fact.”

“If you say so, M.” He left her there, stewing in her big fat lie, and she sunk into it as deeply as possible.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. She just rolled over and over and over in the bed, feeling like it didn’t fit her somehow. There was…too much space. She finally got up and grabbed the couch throw pillows, throwing them behind her to make it feel smaller. It didn’t work. She still couldn’t sleep.

“Stupid,” M muttered into the pillow. “You’re so stupid, Molly.”

Her phone chimed. Groaning, she reached for the nightstand and hauled it up to her face.

 _I can’t sleep. I miss you._  
_-H_

M’s breath came out in a rush somewhere between hurt and relieved. She texted back instantly.

_Me too._

The doorbell rang. She lay there, blinking in the darkness, and then slowly got out of bed. She padded to the front door and opened it.

H stood there, a sheepish, tired look on his face, somehow still in his pajamas.

“Did you drive here in those?” she demanded.

“Maybe,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Can I come in?”

M rolled her eyes and nodded. He walked past her. Today’s cologne was still on him, and she wanted to rub herself against the front of his body like a cat. She stuffed the urge down. “What do you want, H?”

“I can’t sleep,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“What’s that got to do with me?” she asked, returning her phone to the charging cradle.

She turned to see him climbing into her bed and kicking aside the extra pillows, her jaw dropping. “What are you doing?”

“Neither of us can sleep,” he said stubbornly. “So get your arse over here already.”

She crossed her arms under her chest. “First off, you’re not the boss of me. Second off, why are you so sure this is going to work?”

“Because I haven’t slept well since that night I left and I know you haven’t either,” H said, claiming a pillow for his own and flopping onto his side. “And we can’t work if we’re always tired, so this is the temporary solution.”

M groaned. “You are such an idiot, H.”

“Sticks and stones.” He shut his eyes. “Now come to bed.”

M scowled deeply at him for a minute or so, wanting out of pure defiance to sleep on the couch, but her body betrayed her. She climbed into bed next to him. Automatically, he looped an arm around her waist and brought her into his embrace. Everything rushed back to her; that scent of soap and wood smoke, the steadiness of his heartbeat, the warmth of his bare skin, the depth of his breathing.

She fell asleep in less than five minutes.

She woke up the next morning so refreshed she thought she’d been asleep for ten-thousand years. She knew her alarm would go off in a while, but she didn’t care. She lay there in her partner’s arms and watched the sunlight edge its way over his handsome face. She could do this for hours, if time permitted.

“This is stupid,” H said without opening his eyes.

Of course the bastard had been faking it. “Mm?”

He opened his eyes and looked right at her accusingly. “What we’re doing. It’s stupid.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “This was your idea, buddy.”

“Not this,” he said, squeezing her hip. “Not seeing each other just because it counts as dating. We’re both unhappy. We’re both lonely. If it’s dating, then fuck it, let’s date.”

M stared at him, mouth agape. He’d never been this…forthcoming about his feelings before. A tiny spot of hope bloomed in her chest. “You…want to…date me?”

“Oh my _God_ ,” H groaned in annoyance. “Of course I want to date you, you silly woman. How is it not apparent that I am absolutely _crazy_ about you?”

M sat up then, sputtering. “How is it not apparent that I’m crazy about _you?_ ”

“Well, I thought you broke up with me because you didn’t want to develop more feelings, not that you already had them, you ridiculous little—” He searched for a word, but couldn’t seem to find the right one. “—teddy bear!”

A snorting laugh left her nostrils. “Wait, wait, are you saying we’ve both been fucking miserable for almost a month because we both want to date and thought the other person didn’t?”

H paused. “That seems to be the size of it, yes.”

“Wow. We’re the dumbest people in London, aren’t we?”

“Yes, that sounds probable,” he agreed. Then he smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “Then let me put this on the record. I am beyond crazy about you, Molly. Please let me date you.”

“This is completely unprofessional and inappropriate in every way.” M grinned and looped her arms around his neck. “Yes, you may, Henry.”

H’s smile lit her from within like a lighthouse beacon. She tilted her head back, expecting a kiss, but then he leaned over to the other nightstand for his phone. “One second.”

“Hey,” she protested as he hit a button to dial. “We were having a moment, here.”

“Hi, Agent V, it’s Agent H,” he said cheerfully, ignoring her. “It seems that Agent M and I have had an emergency come up and we won’t be in today. Yeah. No, no, we’ve got it handled, thanks. Bye.”

He tossed the phone to one side and grinned wickedly at her, tugging her up to meet him. “Now where were we?”

“You were about to have epic makeup sex with your girlfriend for the next twelve hours,” M purred.

“Oh, yes,” H murmured back. “That’s right. Got to make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Ah fixed it. :D
> 
> And no, this isn't the end, probably. This is just a good stopping point. I'm like 90% sure the next chapter is alllllllll their makeup sex, so stay tuned.


	12. Alphabet: A-H

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The language of M and H's romantic relationship, part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK this came outta nowhere, but we're doing the alphabet, so here we go!
> 
> Sorry. I promised you smut. There will be smut. Just hang on.

**A is for Apple**

"I think we're in agreement," H said in a rather severe voice, his nose wrinkling as he stared down at the fruit. "Red delicious apples are the worst."

"Totally the worst," M agreed as she placed it back on the pile. "Flavorless and they go bad so fast it'll make your head spin. Want some gala instead?"

"God, yes. Much better, especially for pastries."

M chuckled as she loaded up a bag. "You can't keep feeding me those for breakfast or I'm gonna get fat."

"Nonsense. It's good for you."

She scowled as she handed him the plastic bag. "It's empty calories."

He waggled his eyebrows. "There's nothing empty about making a tasty breakfast treat for one's girlfriend."

M pretended her cheeks didn't tint as pink as the apples as they continued to the next aisle. "Whatever, H."

**B is for Brandon**

"I can't believe you!"

H nearly jostled out of his chair as M stormed into his apartment. "Huh?"

"You threatened another agent?!" she screeched.

H frowned. "Wait, when did I do that?"

M brandished the laptop bag over her shoulder. "I just saw Agent B in Tech Support."

A sheepish look slid across H's features. "...oh."

She tossed the bag down and grabbed a throw pillow from the couch, raining blows down on him in between short phrases. "Do! Not! Threaten! Coworkers! Over! Me! You! Idiot!"

"I'm sorry!" he protested, his forearms up to shield himself. "It was a knee-jerk reaction! Before we were together!"

Finally satisfied, M blew a stray curl off of her forehead and tossed the pillow aside. "Jackass."

"Aw, come on, muffin, don't be mad. I'm sorry. I was jealous."

She crossed her arms and squinted at him. "Really?"

"Super jealous," H continued, pushing to his feet and enveloping her in his arms. "Insanely jealous. I wanted you all to myself and I got carried away."

M tried her best not to smile at the confession. "Apologize to him."

He groaned. "Aw, come on--"

She poked him in the ribs. "Tomorrow morning. Bring him a pastry while you're at it."

"Fiiiiiine," he grumbled. She then allowed a little smile to grace her lips.

"Now tell me how you threatened him. You're kind of sexy when you're mad."

H's eyes twinkled as he dragged her down into his lap on the couch. "Likewise."

**C is for Cuddles**

H only ever admitted he loved cuddling when he was drunk.

"Muffiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!"

M sighed as she opened the door to her apartment to let her three-sheets-to-the-wind drunk boyfriend in. "H, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Time for a cuddle!" He scooped her up in his sinewy arms and peppered her face and neck with kisses. She tried not to laugh, but it was impossible. H was possibly the most cheerful drunk she'd ever seen, and it was just as cute as it was distressing. She managed to de-tangle herself from his arms enough to shut and lock the door. H had recently closed a big case and had gone out to celebrate. She wasn't the partying type, so she'd returned home to get some rest, fully expecting a late night phone call begging her to join him.

"Well, at least your suit is still in one piece," M said, and then she took his hand and led him to bed. "Better than last time when you showed up in just your skivvies."

"Yes, your next door neighbor may or may not have taken pictures," H mused as he wobbled behind her. "I think I saw some of them on Facebook."

M snorted and helped him undress. "Wouldn't surprise me one bit. In you go, you useless lump."

H happily flopped into bed and held his arms out, grinning. She shook her head and obliged him. Truth be told, she pretended it was an inconvenience, but H was terribly comfortable and she loved nothing more than to be snuggled up against him.

"You're just a big, stupid teddy bear, aren't you?" she chided.

"Hmm, I'm _your_ teddy bear," H sighed into her hair as he started to conk out. M chuckled to herself as she followed him to sleep.

"I guess you are."

**D is for Dogs**

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Henry."

"Oh, come on, please, muffin?" H rolled those baby blues up at her and even had the nerve to bat his eyelashes. His head lay in her lap and his arms twisted around her, running his fingers up her back in an effort to help persuade her, but she didn't fall for it.

"We aren't home enough to have a dog," she told him sensibly, flipping over a page to read the other side of the report. "The poor thing would be lonely and just tear up the furniture. Besides, it's a huge commitment."

"We could hire a dog sitter," he protested. "Or switch off shifts."

"H, the entire premise of being MIB is that we have no attachments. A dog is an attachment. Therefore, no."

"Not even just an ickle one? Like a teacup dog you can sneak into your laptop bag?"

She nearly laughed that time. "No, H. No dog unless you're planning on retiring."

He huffed. "Fine. But when we do, I'm getting like four of them."

"Pfft. In your apartment? Good luck."

"I'll make it work." He winked at her. "And I'll name one of them Muffin after you."

She just smacked his forehead with the report and kept reading.

**E is for Eat**

"How the hell do you eat so much junk food and stay so fit?!" M wailed in horror as she opened his fridge.

H swooped by and kissed her cheek as he grabbed a beer. "Just lucky, I guess."

"I _hate_ you."

**F is for F-Bombs**

M came to find that one of her favorite things in their relationship were those nights when she and H were entirely too worked up, too lustful, too into each other to try and pace themselves. On nights like that, all she could hear was the slap of damp skin, the creak of the bed frame, the whisper of the sheets underneath them, and the hoarse, repeated groan of "fuck" from both of them. The faster they moved as one, the harder he thrust, the tighter she got around his cock, the more frequently the word flew between them, getting hotter and hotter every second they neared their climax. It never failed to send her spiraling off the edge into her orgasm to hear it groaned against her lips as Henry drove into her, his grip on her curves unyielding, that one word somehow telling her exactly how much he loved what she did to him. She moaned it right back to him, in his ear, against his neck, into his mouth, that one word somehow telling him exactly how much she loved what he did to her in return.

And, of course, there was always the long, content, relaxed "fuck" after they were both exhausted and sweaty and completely satisfied.

Who said there couldn't be poetry in vulgarity?

**G is for Giggle**

For the vast majority of her life, M never giggled.

And yet H could never fail to make her giggle _all the the damn time._

At work, she could hold it in to just a smile. It was important to keep her image as a smart, tough-as-nails agent beside him. After all, unfortunately, MIB was prey to the same pitfalls as a normal job. The tall, good-looking white guy would get all the recognition and attention over the short woman of color at his side, and people naturally assumed she'd been sleeping with him since they met. They maintained a perfect balance of professionalism out of sheer practice alone.

But at home, it was as if H made it his personal goal to get her to giggle at least once a day.

"Stop it," she wheezed in between giggles, smacking his arm as she stood at the counter chopping carrots. "I'm gonna cut myself if you keep it up. Why do you always have to make me laugh?"

"Because you are adorable when you laugh," H said, kissing the top of her head. "And I like making you happy."

For a split second, her heart fluttered. She quickly hid it behind a roll of her eyes and resumed her vegetable chopping, a blush rolling across her cheeks as she muttered, "Dummy," and tried her best not to smile.

Spoiler alert: she failed.

**H is for Hurt**

M's boots barely touched the ground as she raced over to her partner, doing her best not to scream his name as she noticed the blood dripping down the white shirt. "H!"

"It's alright," he told her, hissing as he pressed his palm to the wound. "It's superficial. Just a graze."

He accepted her help as she hauled him to his feet, and he scooped up his Atomizer as they got ready for another round. He lay down cover fire as she reached into her back pocket for one of the small, quick field bandages she carried for emergencies and pulled his bloody shirt up enough to adhere it to the wound.

"You're shortening my life, you know that?" M snarled, careful to smooth the edges down to slow the bleeding until they could get back to base.

"Eh, no one lives forever anyway," H said, tossing her a wink. She shook her head as she lowered the hem of his shirt once more.

"Let's go."

That night, she curled up on his uninjured side, and long after he'd gone to sleep, she lay there, afraid to drift off and dream of if the shot had been fatal. She knew it was silly to worry and think of dangerous hypotheticals, but she couldn't help herself. His words rang in her ears like police sirens: _No one lives forever anyway._

M held him closer, her throat tight, muttering, "Careless idiot."

Then, she felt his lips on her forehead, and his sleepy, rumbling voice. "I know. Sorry, Molly."


	13. Alphabet: I-M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The language of M and H's romantic relationship, part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are so fuggin' cute, I swear.

**I is for Insult**

"This is your first and only warning," M said, a perfunctory smile on her lips as she stared at the alien mob boss. "You are not sanctioned to be on this planet. You have until dawn to remove yourself and your friends, or you will be escorted out of this galaxy by force."

She lowered her Atomizer, as did H, and they turned to head for the door. The alien spat purple blood onto the floor and growled one word.

"Bitch."

M froze mid-stride.

So did H.

H cast a sidelong glance at her. She met his gaze, and nodded. He calmly walked to the door.

And locked it.

"What the hell?" the mob boss snarled, confused as the two agents removed their suit jackets. "I thought you said I had until dawn?"

"Oh, you do, my good chap," H said cheerfully as he rolled up his sleeves. "We just need to teach you some manners first."

Thirty minutes later, M and H climbed into the car, bloodied and bruised, but both smiling in satisfaction.

"We're gonna get written up for this," M said, tucking her shirt tail into her pants and flipping the mirror down to have a look at the cut on one side of her lip.

"Yep," H agreed as he wiped purple blood off of his split knuckles.

She met his gaze. "Worth it?"

H's eyes sparkled. "So worth it."

**J is for Jealous**

M quickly learned that it would sever the tendons in her head if she rolled her eyes every single time a woman, human or alien, made an obvious pass at H.

It happened at least once a day, and usually a few times based on what kind of cases they were assigned. To his credit, while H couldn't show that they were together outwardly, when he did need to flirt back, she recognized the disinterest behind it. H could pour on the charm like syrup over hot pancakes, and she'd gotten used to the superficial kind he used while undercover or getting someone to do them a favor. The real charm she knew firsthand, and he could be quite deadly with it.

But it still irked her.

H had been upfront with her about his past partners within MIB, and it wasn't quite as bad as she had thought: only six girls who still worked out of the London office had slept with him, and most of those trysts had been early in his career, fresh off when he had thought he and High T saved the world. Some of them still tried to flirt and turn his head, and he politely kept his distance or let them down easily. M never worried that he would stray, but she did find herself snapping pencils if some of them came up to his desk just to try to get in his pants again.

She only had one incident, though.

M had just gotten out of the bathroom and was straightening her tie in the mirror when she heard a velvet purr.

"Oh, Agent M, how are you?" Agent U, a statuesque blonde in stilettos, asked as she entered.

"Good," she said. "You?"

"Great," she said, and turned the faucet on to wash her hands. "But obviously not as great as you."

M took a deep breath and kept her voice level. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, there's that telltale spark in your eyes," the blonde sighed wistfully. "That pep in your step. That little smile that only other women would get."

She straightened up and reached for a paper towel. "You've been fucking Henry, I take it?"

M's right eyebrow twitched, but the rest of her face remained impassive. "MIB protocol clearly states that agents are not to fraternize, Agent U."

The blonde's hazel eyes sparkled. "And that's just exactly why it's so damn good, isn't it?"

She crossed her arms and let her eyes roam over M. "I'm a little surprised. He usually doesn't like them so plain, but I guess you must throw a mean one."

M vividly pictured grabbing a handful of Agent U's hair and shoving her head forcibly into the toilet behind them. Instead, she mirrored the woman. "Is there a reason you're still talking to me or am I dismissed? Because you have nothing to say that I want to hear."

U chuckled, but the sound was brittle. "Enjoy it while it lasts, honey. He'll dump you for a new model soon enough."

M took a single step forward and lowered her voice. "Your mistake is thinking you were ever in the running to begin with, _honey_. You were a cheap rental car he needed for a weekend. And I'm that Rolls Royce he's wanted since he was a teenager. So do us both a favor and _stay in your lane_."

With that, she strode past her and out of the bathroom.

"I don't get what you saw in her," M grumbled that night as she aggressively washed a plate.

"Breasts," H said candidly. "Great big breasts, in fact. But to be fair, she was a terrible lay. There are softcore pornstars more convincing than that woman in bed."

M snorted out a laugh before she could stop herself. "Why on earth do you think I needed to know that?"

"Because," he said, looping his arms around her waist and settling his chin on her hair. "I value honesty. I have nothing to hide from you. And I would like you to know that I have changed since then and I wouldn't look twice at a woman like that now that I met you."

She almost nodded to herself. She could tell he meant it; she had very quietly observed him since he had a playboy reputation, and his eyes didn't wander.

"Well, it was too much information, but thanks for being honest with me."

"Always, love." He kissed her cheek. Then he paused and peered down at her. "Wait, were you jealous, muffin?"

"No," she said too quickly, and cursed herself. He laughed lightly and squeezed her.

"Don't worry. It's our little secret."

**K is for Karaoke**

M only sang when she was alone.

Or thought she was alone.

The only way to get through some of her annoying household chores was to grab her phone and crank up some catchy tunes. She had the apartment to herself, and no one would be able to hear her, so once her phone shuffled to En Vogue, she decided to just let herself have a little fun.

 _"Ooh, bop, bop, bop, bop! No, you're never gonna get it!"_ M sang lustily, wiggling her hips as she sponged down the stove. _"Ow! Never, ever gonna get it! No, not this time! No, you're never gonna get it! My love! Never ever gonna get it!"_

Feeling a little silly, she acted out little bits of the sassier parts of the song until her whole body twisted and swayed to the rhythm. By the time she hit the bridge, she had grabbed a wooden spoon to sing into.

_"Never gonna get it, never gonna get it, never gonna get it--"_

And then she was shocked to hear a familiar male voice directly behind her hit the famous high note, _"Woo, woo, woo, woo!"_

M whirled to see H right behind her, grinning maniacally with his copy of her apartment key in one hand, and then he proceeded to sing the rest of the bridge perfectly, teasing her into bumping their hips together on beat. She knew by then it was too late to resist; she just gave in and sang the rest of the song duet-style with her goofy boyfriend.

At least he hadn't been lying. He did have a nice singing voice.

**L is for Love**

The first time Henry said it, he was mostly asleep.

“Love you,” the blond giant mumbled into her nape.

M lay perfectly still. She wasn’t sure she had misheard him, but he’d been so close—too close—for her to have misinterpreted it. She tried to angle her head to see his profile, but she knew by the depth of his breathing that he’d nodded off to sleep completely. Panic sent fluttering sensations through her limbs and made light sweat break out over her skin.

She…hadn’t heard that aloud since she left her family behind.

M forced herself to calm down; she was close to a full on panic attack at the rate she was going. H had a long day. He’d been so tired he hadn’t even attempted to feel her up upon his arrival to her apartment. He’d just given her a smooch and collapsed next to her, snuggling up against her instantly as he always did. Nothing out of the ordinary leading up to the terrifying utterance.

_Love you._

Maybe he’d done it subconsciously, she reasoned. People said ‘love you’ by accident over the phone all the time. She’d heard enough horror stories to know that. Every so often, H would hang up a call with, “Cheers, love.” Perhaps he’d gotten his wording confused as he began to go to sleep. Muddled words. Not on purpose.

Yes, she decided to herself. It sounded realistic in her head. She didn’t need to freak out. Some couples also used it in a lighter sense, anyway. She didn’t need to give it any more attention, and with that, she told herself to sleep.

Until the next night when he said it again.

Then M started getting _very_ nervous.

She kept it to herself, but she made a mental note. Sure enough, for the next week, he muttered it to her every night they spent in bed, whether it was at her place or his, and even though they went to bed at different times—they fooled around at night on occasion, which made their bedtime later—he still said it.

And the weird part was that she was just as afraid as she was excited by it.

M had never been in love. Ever. Didn’t see a need for it. She had no idea what it felt like. Did it feel like this? What they had? There were so many songs devoted to love. Movies, books, poetry, everything in every culture seemed to all lead back to love. Yet she didn’t know it. Familial love she had known for a time, but never romantic love with a man. How did H know he loved her, if he did at all? Well, she’d have to ask. And that could destabilize the entire relationship.

Or strengthen it.

She wished she had someone to talk to about it, but while she had friends, she’d never been the kind of person who had a bestie. H was her bestie. She lamented her introverted sensibilities.

By the time it happened for two weeks straight, M knew she couldn’t keep stalling. They’d been dating for six months now. They’d known each other for the better part of almost two years. H didn’t run away from anything, even if she sometimes wished he would.

“Henry?”

His golden lashes lifted over those blue eyes. He was drowsy, not far from sleep, and cute as a button, not that she’d ever tell him as much. “Mm?”

M licked her lips. “I have to tell you something.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, rubbing her waist absently. “I’m listening.”

“Um,” she began. “Every night for the past two weeks…right before you go to sleep…you’ve been saying something to me. And I don’t think you’ve heard yourself or realized that you’ve been doing it.”

H frowned. “Have I? I’m sorry, muffin. What is it that I say?”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, heat filling her cheeks. “Um…y-you’ve been saying…love you.”

M risked a glance up at him. She expected shock, maybe worry, maybe panic. He just stared at her. Then slowly lifted an eyebrow. “And?”

She frowned. “What do you mean ‘and’?”

“What is it that you wish to discuss?”

“You…” She struggled for words. “Wait, this isn’t freaking you out?”

“No,” he said, sounding even more confused. “Why would it? Of course I love you. Was that not obvious?”

She stared, open-mouthed, at him for a few seconds. “But you—we—Henry, I’ve never had anyone say that to me before. It’s a big fucking deal!”

“Molly,” he said patiently, sitting up. “Talk to me. Does it upset you to know how I feel about you?”

She raked a shaky hand through her hair. “N-No, I’m not upset, per se. I just have no idea how to handle it.”

“It does not have to be a big deal,” he said gently. “I am certainly not going to pressure you into saying it to me in return. If I’ve been saying it before I go to sleep, it probably means I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. But I knew you weren’t quite ready to have that conversation yet, so that must be why it’s been slipping out.”

“But won’t it hurt your feelings if I don’t say it back?”

H squeezed her hands. “Oh, muffin. No. They’re _your_ feelings. Not mine. I cannot make you do anything that you do not want to do, and I cannot make you say anything you do not want to say. I would never want that. I don’t believe in labels, Molly. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Our relationship is fantastic and I wouldn’t change anything about it.”

“Don’t apologize,” she sighed. “I’m the one making mountains out of molehills, apparently. It’s just…everyone seems to make a big deal about it when a couple says it for the first time.”

“Do you want it to be a big deal?” he offered. “I would gladly climb onto the roof and shout it so all of London could hear it.”

She punched him in the ribs lightly. “Don’t you dare. I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

M chewed her lip for a second. “And…tell you…I don’t really know what it feels like to be in love. So it might be a while before I figure it out.”

“And that’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I’ll try my best not to say it my sleep anymore—”

“No!” she blurted out, and then blushed. “I…it’s not a bad thing. I…I kind of like it. Knowing that.”

“Knowing what?” he lilted playfully, tipping her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. “Knowing that I love you?”

She blushed harder. “Yeah, that.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek, the corner of her lips, her temple. “At last, I have a secret weapon to bring the all-powerful Molly to her knees.”

M snorted. “In your dreams, buster.”

“In my dreams where I love you?”

She groaned and hid her face in his chest, smacking him. “I hate you.”

“Well, close enough.”

**M is for Muffin**

“Mm, come here, muffin, give us a cuddle,” H purred, dragging his girlfriend into his arms. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t resist. He buried his face behind her ear, one of his favorite spots, dropping a kiss to it. They had to get up soon, and he was already beginning his scheme to try and keep her in bed with him longer. H was anything but subtle.

“You know, we never had a full discussion about this pet name nonsense,” she said. “Why did I get saddled with muffin?”

“Don’t you remember?” he asked, kissing his way up to her ear lobe. “You’re small and sweet, just like a muffin.”

She shivered as his lips parted enough to take her lobe inside his hot mouth, and heat traveled down her belly straight to her loins. “And nutritious.”

M choked on a laugh. _“Nutritious?”_

H shot her a look that made her pulse skyrocket. “I’d have my little muffin for breakfast every day if she’d let me.”

M groaned in annoyance, palming her face with one hand. “That might be the worst pun you have ever made.”

“Thank you,” he said victoriously.

“You wouldn’t be so smug if I gave you a ridiculous pet name.”

“Please feel free,” he said, kissing her collarbone. “I’ve been dreaming of the day you would.”

“Hmm…” M regarded him for a moment. “I’d call you ‘puppy’ if it weren’t for that cunt of a character Laura Moon from _American Gods_. That’s what she calls Shadow, and it pisses me off to no end. She doesn’t deserve to call him anything after what she’s done to him, but I digress. I think we’ll go with a classic: babe.”

She flicked a lock of blond hair off his forehead, her smile stretching. “Because, let’s face it, you are a babe.”

H waggled his eyebrows. “Nice of you to notice for once, muffin. Now, are you up for a little breakfast?”

M grinned and tugged him down on top of her. “You bet your ass, babe.”


	14. Alphabet: N-R

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The language of M and H's romantic relationship, part three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you a little smut. Hope this helps. ;D

**N is for Nightmare**

Each of them dealt with nightmares differently.

With H, M would roll over in bed and feel the empty space, and would know something was wrong. She’d peel her eyelids back to see that she was alone. H wasn’t the type to sneak out to watch TV or eat a midnight snack, so she’d pad her way out of the bedroom to the den. She’d find him sitting there on the couch in the dark with some brandy, his eyes closed as if meditating. She’d sit next to him and tug on his shoulder gently. He’d finish the brandy in one go and then stretch out next to her, his head in her lap, and she would run her fingers through his hair until she felt the tension leave him. He didn’t like to talk about the nightmares. She knew what most of them were about anyway—losing her, or the memory of losing High T. So she helped how she could.

With M, H would awaken after hearing her restless movement beside him. M had vivid dreams, and so her nightmares were just as vivid. She would gasp and clutch the sheets, her teeth gritted, but never quite waking from them. He would carefully ease his way into her space and rub her upper arm, saying her name quietly, soothingly. Eventually, she calmed. He’d kiss her temple and wrap her in his arms. Through it all, she never woke, and she didn’t seem to recall it in the morning, and he didn’t mind. After all, he was her protector, whether she knew it or not, just as she was his.

**O is for Obey**

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Henry?”

He licked his lips, pupils dilated until there was just a tiny ring of blue left, his breath shallow and excited. “Yes.”

M’s delicate brows rose haughtily. “Yes what?”

“Yes ma’am,” he breathed, swallowing hard as his gaze traveled down her lovely brown skin, over the exquisite black corset she’d worn just for him. His hands itched to touch it, and her, but part of the deal had included handcuffs. He’d been reticent, but now, seeing the beautiful goddess calmly seated across his thighs in that gorgeous outfit, he knew it was worth his initial discomfort. M had been his first partner who had suggested it before; all the women he’d been with before had preferred him to take the lead in bed.

Like anything else in their relationship, M defied all expectations.

“Good boy,” she purred, trailing her gloved fingertips down his chest, feather-light, making him breathe even faster than before. She drew little aimless patterns across his abs until she reached his cock, already twitching with anticipation. The satin texture of the gloves against his aching cock made him hiss as her fingers wrapped around it and began light strokes. He was dying for her, but he had to be patient. He had to obey. Then he would be rewarded. The notion frustrated him as much as it turned him on.

“Do you want me, Henry?” she whispered, her crimson lips tilting up in a knowing smirk.

“Yes ma’am,” he gasped out. “Fucking hell, yes ma’am.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please. Please let me have you, Molly. Please, ma’am.”

Her beautiful face lit up with a grin, and he savored the look. “Good boy.”

She pushed up on her thighs and balanced above him, lightly caressing the tip of his cock with her already slick outer walls. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fought to keep still, for that had been one of the rules they established. He was supposed to allow her complete control, and his nerves screamed at him for being denied her. He desperately wanted to snap his hips up enough to slide into her, but he had to do as he was told.

He heard her mischievous, girlish giggle and then groaned in relief as she slowly sunk down onto him, encasing him in unfathomable heat and pressure and nefarious delights. He forced his eyes open just to enjoy it more, to see the woman he adored in that first delicious moment of sex. M shuddered a bit and wiggled her hips to further accept him, since he wasn’t small by any sense. She spread her fingers out across his chest, shifting her body to let him take the weight, and hovered close enough for a kiss. Instead, she just smiled that lazy, big cat smile at him again.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Henry?”

Shivers jolted down his spine and across his naked skin from head to toe. “Yes ma’am.”

She made a slow, deliberate figure-eight with her hips, gripping him tightly inside her, drawing another hoarse moan of frustration from him. “Would you say it for me?”

“I want you to fuck me, ma’am.”

She pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. “Good boy.”

M rode him slowly, each movement fulfilling but still somehow teasing, delighted by the low growls of arousal that she extracted from him. She managed to keep her cool demeanor, but truthfully, it killed her just as much to take her time, and to not feel his heavy, calloused hands on her body. Her skin hungered for his touch, but she knew she would get it soon enough once they were done playing their game.

Her lashes fluttered down over her eyes once she felt the telltale signs he was going to come, and she forced herself not to rush over the edge like she wanted to. Instead, she smoothed her hands up his chest and planted her hands on either side of his head. “Are you mine, Henry?”

He lifted up enough to kiss her, skating on the line of obedience, but it was such a good kiss she hardly minded at all. “Yes, yes ma’am, I’m yours, all yours, sweetheart.”

M couldn’t help aligning their bodies, molding herself into him, equally excited and frustrated that she couldn’t feel his bare skin through the corset. She broke from his lips enough to whisper one last thing in his ear. “Will you come for me, Henry?”

His gorgeous body arched underneath her at her words, but he still held his place, a determined look in his eyes. “Yes ma’am, but only if you come with me.”

M couldn’t handle any more. It was the sexiest thing imaginable to know he didn’t want his pleasure alone, but hers as well. She didn’t fight the cresting wave of pleasure. She dropped her hips hard and fast, his name spilling out of her unbidden as they both surged to their climax together.

**P is for Plush**

“You are not bringing that thing into my apartment.”

H pouted. “But muffin—”

“No,” she said stubbornly, glaring at the giant, light-yellow stuffed rabbit that was half her boyfriend’s size. “Take it back to your place.”

“But I won it for you!” he protested. “It took me twenty minutes on that stupid rigged game.”

M rolled her eyes. “Sell the guilt trip somewhere else, H. I’m not buying it.”

“But look how much I love you!” He hefted the enormous bunny. “Every time you see his cute face, you’ll remember how your Henry adores you.”

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met. No. Put it back in the car and take it home.”

H covered the bunny’s ears, as if it could hear them. “Don’t say that. You’re gonna hurt his feelings, muffin.”

“I’m going hurt the both of you if you don’t go away.”

She started to shut the door, but he caught it before she could. “How about a compromise?”

M scowled. He continued. “Just for tonight. I’ll take him home in the morning. I promise.”

“Not good enough. What else you got?”

H’s brows lifted, and then he grinned. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear that made her turn bright red. H rose to his normal height, smugly smiling at her expression.

“Do we have a deal?”

“F-Fine,” she muttered. “But if you gloat, I’m ripping that thing’s head off.”

**Q is for Question**

It wasn’t often they got a lazy Sunday off together, but this time, fate cut them a break. M and H were sprawled on her couch both reading casefiles, his head in her lap, music playing softly in the background. At some point, he stopped to refocus and listened to the lyrics of the current track.

 _“Someday, somebody’s gonna ask you_  
_A question that you should say yes to_  
_Once in your life_  
_Baby, tonight, I got a question for you…”_

“Hey,” H said casually. “Did you ever want to get married when you were little?”

M went stricken for a second and dropped the manila folder enough to stare at him in shock. “What?”

“Relax,” he said. “I’m genuinely curious. Were you like those little girls who had a dream wedding and used to decorate their room or ask to see their mother’s wedding dress?”

She reminded herself he had a habit of not being unnerved by things about their future and sorted through her memories. “No, I don’t think so. Marriage wasn’t really romanticized in my household. Mom and Dad had a lot of problems and weren’t on the same page very often, so I didn’t have a dream wedding. Then after I first saw those agents, any thoughts of a normal life pretty much went out the window.”

“Mm,” H said under his breath. “I think you’d make a very pretty bride. Not in one of those poofy, Cinderella-type dresses, but one of those nice lacey ones with the short train, and a little flower crown.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How have you considered this and I haven’t?”

H chuckled. “No idea. Just a thought.”

She eyed him. He sighed and closed his eyes in return. “Would you please relax? I am not planning to propose to you.”

“Thank God,” she muttered. “Save me the trouble of belting you right in the eye.”

He laughed. “We’re agents. Agents don’t get married. It’s enough that our boss is kind enough to look the other way and not investigate what we’ve been up to in our free time.”

He rolled his eyes up to meet hers and gave her a warm smile. “But you would be a stunning bride, Molly dearest.”

M pretended she wasn’t blushing as she lifted the folder back up to continue reading. “Whatever you say, babe.”

**R is for Rain**

“This is literally the most idiotic movie of all time,” H insisted through a mouthful of popcorn, throwing a kernel at his flat-screen in contempt. “Why would these aliens fly all the way down to a planet that is 70% made up of the stuff that kills them on contact? For God’s sake, _it falls from the sky_ on a daily basis! In some regions, for entire _months_ at a time!”

M shook with hysterical giggles. “No idea, babe.”

“I can’t believe anyone thinks Shyamalan is a genius,” he grumbled. “This shite is unbelievable. A disgrace to every alien who has ever sought shelter on our planet.”

“I know,” she said with barely contained mirth.

“And what about fog?” he cried next. “Their skin would just peel off their bodies in a slow, agonizing layer if they were in London proper during an invasion. And what about clouds? Clouds are water! What about dew on the grass in early morning? There’s fucking water everywhere! This plan is doomed to fail!”

M keeled over to one side, gasping for air through her laughter, so hard that she almost didn’t hear the infamous “Swing away” line.

“Oh, I’ll swing alright. Swing this fucking Blu-Ray right out the window!”


	15. Alphabet: S-Z

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The language of M and H's romantic relationship, final part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like the rest of you, I am entirely infatuated with Boyfriend!Henry because he is too cute.

**S is for Snow**

Holidays were hard.

M, in particular, found them tough to get through knowing that her parents were out there somewhere with no idea they had a grown kid who wouldn’t be spending it with them. She had distanced herself by the time she was a teenager, but the holidays tended to dredge up old feelings of guilt. Ignorance is bliss. She knew that. They couldn’t miss something they no longer knew anymore, and yet she felt that old ache each Christmas.

The first Christmas when she and H were together, she’d opted for a double shift, and he didn’t fight her on it. It was strange, however, not to have a white Christmas when she’d been born and raised in New York. Naturally, the snow wasn’t exactly white with all the trash and sludge of the dirty streets, but it still took some getting used to for her. H had told her the rare times it did snow in London, it almost never stuck to the ground, so she knew not to expect it.

Thankfully, she’d had plenty of paperwork to catch up on for her double-shift that kept her busy. H had asked off, but he dropped off her lunch and dinner like the big sweetheart he was. She had just an hour left to survive once she dragged her exhausted carcass home on Christmas Day. Hell, she was too tired to even shower, so H would just have to live with it if he cuddled up to her tonight.

She opened the door, and then stopped dead.

Her apartment was covered in snow.

Actual. Fucking. Snow.

She stared at her feet in disbelief, her jaw damn near to her knees, unsure that her eyes were working. She squatted and picked up a handful. Sure enough, it felt cold and it melted in her hand, but she noticed that it didn’t leave water droplets behind.

“Merry Christmas, muffin!”

M glanced up to see H standing in the kitchen with two mugs of something hot in them. She spotted little red and green candles lit, which turned the snow a lovely shade of orange-gold, and there was a small decorated Christmas tree in the center of the island counter with a couple presents neatly settled around the base.

“What’s all this?” she asked in awe as she crunched towards him over the strange snow.

“I figured I should lift your spirits a bit,” he said, kissing her and then handing her the mug. Hot apple cider. She took a sip and it warmed her down to her toes. Perfect.

“This obviously isn’t real snow,” she pointed out. “Right?”

“No, but it’s this very nifty stuff a Korpaxian friend told me about. Acts and feels just like the real thing, but it evaporates overnight without leaving water or residue. I thought you might have missed it.”

“Snow is nothing to miss,” she admitted. “It makes traveling hell.”

She toed some of it around, and smiled. “But I’m not mad at it. Is this what you were up to all day?”

“That, and trying to figure out your gifts.”

M shook her head. “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” He slid the first box over to her. “Go on.”

To his credit, H didn’t try for some grand romantic gesture; the things he’d bought her had all been trinkets and tools and things she needed that she hadn’t gotten around to buying for herself. Each one she opened made her smile just a bit, as it reminded her that he _listened_ to her. They were by no stretch a perfect couple, as they had plenty of fights and quibbles with each other’s behavior, but at the end of the day, they worked. They just worked.

And it made her throat get tight as she realized that.

“Thanks, babe,” she said, going up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “And I’m a big fat hypocrite, by the way.”

“Oh, I know you are,” H chuckled as she went to the coat closet and rummaged through the empty suitcases at the bottom. She returned with a small box and handed it to him. He grinned eagerly and tore off the wrapping paper, then opened the box. He stilled as he stared at it.

“Is this—”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“How…” H lifted an old, classic watch with a black leather band from the box, his eyes locked to it in wonder. “How did you get this?”

“I, um, I asked Agent O about High T’s personal effects. A lot of it was donated, per his wishes in an original will of his before…you know…and there were some items they recovered later in properties that he owned. She mentioned this one hadn’t been claimed yet, so I thought you might like to have it.”

He inhaled sharply. “Molly, it’s…”

H swallowed hard and looked at her. “Thank you. _So_ much, Molly.”

He wrapped an arm around her and rested his forehead to hers, squeezing her to him. “God, you’re the best woman a lout like me could ever ask for.”

M kissed him. “Merry Christmas, babe. Now put that away so it doesn’t get hurt while I pummel you with snowballs.”

She dipped down and threw a fistful of snow right at him. He laughed and tucked the watch away safely before chasing after her with a snowball of his own. And it was the best Christmas M had since she was a little girl.

**T is for Timing**

_“Henry!”_

M’s scream tore from her throat as if a thousand razor blades had been attached to each syllable. The world stopped spinning as she saw the blade enter his side. The blond agent’s face paled and he glanced down at the wound in a stupor, the adrenaline of the melee draining away. Then he fell to his knees in the dirt.

Rage ejected from every inch of M’s small body. She let out a battle cry that shook the bones of every one of the aliens surrounding her, and then she barreled towards her partner with all hell in her wake. She didn’t even see them as they fell before her, hacking and slashing her way over to her fallen boyfriend. The one who had struck the blow stood over him, preparing to behead him, when her laser scimitar flashed up and cut him clean in half. The two parts sloughed off his upper body and black blood drenched her legs and chest. She stood over H and bellowed, “Who’s next?!”

The remaining aliens took one look at their dead leader and hustled away from the clearing with yelps of fear. After the last one left, M dropped the weapon and grabbed her communicator.

“Agent down, repeat, I’ve got an agent down. Immediate evac to a secure medical facility.”

“Ten-four, Agent M, ETA six minutes.”

M hung up and rolled H onto his back. The alien had removed the blade when he went for the kill, and blood had soaked his shirt. He’d had one hand pressed over it feebly, but she knew he was minutes away from passing out. She tore off her dress shirt and ripped it into shreds. She balled up a quarter of it and pressed it to the wound, and then used the strips to tie it tightly. Then she crawled up beside him and cradled his face in her hands, halfway blinded by tears as she saw the pain in his features.

“My warrior woman,” H chuckled weakly. “You put Wonder Woman to shame, you know.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, all the while stroking his cheekbone. “Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

He smiled up at her. “Sorry, muffin. I made you worry about me again, didn’t I?”

“Worried?” she tried to scoff. “I’m not worried. Do I look worried? I’m not, because you’re gonna be fine, you stupid idiot.”

He coughed wetly. “That’s redundant.”

His eyelids fluttered and she slid closer, shaking him. “Come on, Henry, you have to stay awake for me. Focus. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m trying not to check out here,” he mumbled, his breath shallow and strained. “But I am getting a bit sleepy, love.”

“You can’t go,” M said defiantly. “You can’t, Henry. Do you hear me? Do you know why?”

His big, sweaty hand came up to touch the side of her face. “Why’s that, Molly?”

She smiled through her tears. “Because I love you. I love you, you irritating, impossible bastard.”

He smiled beautifully up at her. “I know, Molly. I’ve always known.”

His thumb brushed a stray tear away, and then his hand dropped from her cheek.

**U is for Unite**

“For the last time, we are not painting the walls the color of your favorite soccer team,” M snarled, slapping her boyfriend’s hand away from the paint can.

“First of all, you heathen American, it’s called football,” H sniffed. “And second of all, it’s going to be my bloody office. You have your own. Why can’t I paint it whatever color I want?”

“Because it still has to match the rest of the flat, you Neanderthal.”

“Not if the door’s closed. You can’t even tell, then.”

M’s head rolled back on her neck and she counted to ten. “Why did I agree to move in with you again?”

“Because you love me,” he teased, peppering her cheek with little playful kisses.

“I very much don’t right now.”

He paused, thinking about it. “Because I am phenomenal in bed?”

M considered that. “Fine. Better answer, at least. But you’re not getting that color paint regardless. Just hang up some posters.”

H heaved a sigh as he slung his arm around her neck. “Oh, the things I do for love.”

**V is for Vacation**

“Ooh, muffin, did you know there’s this planet that’s entirely made up of beaches?”

“Sounds like a tourist trap.”

“Not gonna deny that, but your birthday’s coming up. What do you think? Vacation?”

“Wait, since when do MIB agents get vacations?”

“Since I filed paperwork that says we’re both on quarantine from contracting a highly contagious alien virus.”

“My hero.”

**W is for Wash**

“So how much would I have to pay to get you to wash the Jaguar in a sexy bikini for me?”

“Your life. You would literally pay with your life, Henry.”

“…worth it.”

**X is for Xenial**

“I swear, if I get one more stupid mission where I entertain a foreign dignitary, I’m going vomit up all my internal organs.”

“Look on the bright side, muffin. Free drinks!”

“How much of a working liver do you have left at this point, H?”

“Plenty!”

_“Henry.”_

“…a fourth.”

“That’s reassuring.”

**Y is for Yankee**

Half the fun of their relationship had simply been translating each other’s languages back and forth.

“H?”

“Yes, love?”

“I thought you were bringing me chips.”

H frowned down at her. “I did.”

She rustled the basket. “These are French fries.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, you bloody Americans. No, they’re not. They’re chips in this country. It originated on our side of the pond, so we get the final say on the name.”

“Foolishness,” she muttered as she crunched into one. “They’re fries. Doritos are chips.”

“No, those are crisps,” he insisted as he stole one from her basket.

“Your language makes no sense.”

“It’s not my fault we speak it properly.”

“Your whole country sounds like you’re constantly trying to swallow a piece of sandwich.”

H choked mid-bite, laughing and coughing as she smiled smugly and sipped her soda. “…alright, fair enough, Yank.”

**Z is for Zipper**

“Oh, my poor muffin,” H cooed as he brought a large mug of green tea over to his couch-ridden girlfriend. She gave him a faint smile and muttered thanks as she took a long sip and then curled back onto her side miserably. He sat beside her and tugged her into his arms, one hand slipping beneath the band of her yoga pants to gently rub her sore, aching, PMS-ing pelvis. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like.”

M thought about it. “Have you ever gotten caught on your zipper?”

“Yes.”

“So like that, but for seven days out of every month until you’re in your fifties.”

H squirmed underneath her. “Bloody hell, sweetheart.”

Her lips curled up in a sly smile. “No pun intended?”

H’s chest rumbled with a laugh, and it actually soothed her somewhat. “I’ll never tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this is the last bit of the whole collection? We'll see. I'll leave it open for now to see if I get more ideas.


End file.
